Collections From The McCord Files, Volume III
by CassandraMcCord
Summary: A third collection of 100 glimpses into the lives of the McCords
1. What I'm Here For

**A/N: Welcome to Collections From The McCord Files, Volume III! I hope you guys continue to enjoy these as much as the first 200 :)**

 **Prompt: Elizabeth dreams that Henry wants a divorce, and she can't shake the sick feeling when she wakes up.**

"Babe?"

The soft, familiar tones of Henry's voice broke through the darkness into Elizabeth's hidden thoughts. She barely glanced in his direction, thinking that it would alert him that something was wrong if he made eye contact with her.

She failed to realize that not looking him in the eye would produce the same result.

"Elizabeth?"

His voice was more insistent now, his tone laced with concern.

"Yeah?"

She was aware of the smallness of her voice, the quiet tones that she didn't often use. She felt Henry shift next to her, moving closer. Her stomach was churning, and she closed her eyes against a wave of nausea, words he hadn't truly spoken pounding through her head.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked. His obvious worry made tears fill her eyes.

"I just-" she began, but her voice betrayed her, cracking with emotion.

"Hey, hey," Henry soothed, moving close and reaching out to wrap his arm around her shoulders in the dimly lit bedroom. "Shh. It's okay."

Elizabeth let him hold her close, trying to compose herself. Henry, clearly having caught on to her struggle, held her closer.

"It's okay," he assured her. He pulled back just enough to look at her, reaching out to brush his thumb over a tear making its way down her cheek.

"You want to tell me what's wrong?" he asked. Elizabeth shook her head.

"It's stupid," she said, but Henry was shaking his head before she even finished.

"Well, it's got you all upset, so it must not be," he insisted.

"It was just a dream," she said. "It was nothing."

He didn't say anything; silence filled the room, and then she drew in a breath.

"I dreamed you wanted to get a divorce," she admitted.

"What?"

"I told you it was stupid," she said softly. Henry shook his head, pulling her a little bit closer out of instinct.

"It's not stupid," he said. "It's a bad dream. It happens."

"I can't shake it," she sighed. "I just keep hearing you say those words over and over again."

"Oh, Elizabeth," Henry said softly. "It's okay. I promise."

"I believe you. My non-rational side does not," she replied. Henry tugged her back by her shoulder until they were lying on the bed, tangled together. He held her close and she snuggled against his chest, taking comfort in his presence around her.

"I'm right here, babe," he breathed, so softly that she almost didn't hear him. "I've got you, and I'm not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. I promise."

His voice and words were so sincere that even her non-rational side was starting to feel a little bit more secure.

"Henry, tell me that's never going to happen to us," Elizabeth murmured. Henry smoothed his hand over his wife's light curls.

"That's never going to happen to us," he vowed. "I wouldn't let it, Elizabeth. You and I are forever, baby, I promise."

"How do you know?" she asked on a small voice.

"Because I know you," he answered simply. "Hey, don't worry about it, okay? We're okay."

She drew in a breath and let him hold her. Elizabeth was strong and tough almost all the time, but in the darkness of her bedroom, when it was just she and Henry, things were different. She found that she didn't mind being so vulnerable once Henry broke down the initial walls that she felt compelled to throw up. She snuggled against him and let him be her solace. After all, Henry and his reassurance and love was all she'd ever really needed.

"I'm sorry for freaking out," she said, looking up into his warm, familiar hazel eyes earnestly. He smiled slightly at her and reached out to tuck a strand of her messy curls behind her ear. The action was at once familiar and foreign, tender and newly sensual, a paradox of affection that made Elizabeth's heart race a little bit within her chest.

"Don't be," Henry said. "That's what I'm here for, you know. Among other things," he added with a small, impish smile that drew a breathy laugh from Elizabeth that took a majority of the weight on her chest with it.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, and Henry just smiled at her, drawing her in close against him as she tucked her head against his shoulder- a perfect fit.

"That's what I'm here for," he repeated, and she smiled ever so slightly.

"We're okay?" she repeated, just for good measure, and felt his lips on the top of her head, warm and tender and familiar.

"We're okay," he echoed with confidence that seeped into her as well, and soon after that, with whispered _I love you_ 's, both Henry and Elizabeth were fast asleep once more.


	2. What She Didn't Know

**Prompt: Elizabeth was out of the country when Henry was shot, and no one told her anything until she walked into the Brownstone and saw him sitting in a wheelchair.**

Elizabeth was in a good mood. The trip she was just returning from had been a very successful one, and although her staff had been trying really hard to get her out the door that evening, she hadn't even minded too much. In fact, she'd left a few things incomplete at the office at their insistence, and she wasn't even upset about it. She hadn't even given a lot of thought to it- they were always trying to get her home earlier. And she couldn't complain- she had missed her family, and she was really looking forward to spending some time with Henry and the kids. Henry, especially.

As she stepped into the Georgetown brownstone, she was greeted by all three of her children standing in a line. They looked guilty- like they had when they were children and they knew that they'd done something wrong. Elizabeth took note immediately as she looked between them.

"Hi, guys," she said cautiously.

"Hi, Mom," they chorused. Alison and Jason quickly hugged Elizabeth and then, with excuses that didn't make any sense, they were all but racing one another up the stairs, leaving a bemused Elizabeth and a reluctant Stevie alone.

"What's going on?" Elizabeth asked as she hung up her coat and slipped out of her shoes.

"Okay, Mom, don't freak out," Stevie began.

"That's never, ever been said before something pleasant," Elizabeth replied. Stevie nodded.

"Come with me," Stevie said.

"Where's your Dad?" Elizabeth asked as she looked around for Henry and didn't see him.

"Just- come on," Stevie said. "And keep in mind that I wanted to tell you."

"Tell me wh-"

Elizabeth froze as she and Stevie rounded the corner into the kitchen and she took in the scene before her. It was as if ice had flooded her veins at the sight of her husband in a wheelchair at the kitchen table, both of his legs bandaged in different ways and his skin a little bit paler than usual.

"Henry?" she asked, her voice wavering. Stevie slipped out quietly, glad to escape what she was sure was going to be a complete mess.

"Babe, it's okay," Henry said quickly. "I was shot, okay, but-"

"What?" Elizabeth asked shrilly. "You _what_? Henry!"

"Elizabeth, I'm fine," he insisted.

"No," Elizabeth argued. She could feel tears building behind her eyes as she spoke. "No, Henry, you're not fine. You got shot, that's not fine. And look at you, you're in a wheelchair, how can you possibly think that's fine?"

"I-"

"Why didn't you call me?" she asked through the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks. "Henry, why the hell would you not call me? This is- anything could have happened. You could have di-"

Her voice broke and she covered her face with her hands as a sob made its way from her throat to the air around them. Henry sighed, wondering now if he'd made the wrong decision.

"Whoa, Elizabeth, hey," he said, wishing desperately that he had the ability to stand and go to her. It was incredibly frustrating to watch her cry and not be able to do anything about it.

"Please come here," he pleaded, and she stepped hesitantly forward, letting Henry take her hand. She looked unsure, and Henry understood why; he quickly maneuvered himself so that she had space to sit on his lap, quietly assuring her that she wasn't going to hurt him. A moment later, she was curled into his chest and he held her close.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said softly. "I should have told you, it's just- I knew you would come rushing back and-"

"Of course I would have," Elizabeth said. She moved to meet his eyes. "I would have been here in a heartbeat- and I should have been."

"I'm sorry," Henry said again. "But I'm really okay, I promise."

"Are you?" Elizabeth whispered. She had regained some of her composure now, but Henry could see the fear in her eyes and written all over her.

"They did surgery and I'll be off my feet for a while. But I'm okay" he said again. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"But you might not have been," Elizabeth said. She looked earnestly at him. "Henry, what if something had gone wrong in the surgery and I never even-"

She looked down and Henry felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

"No, you're right," he said. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I should have told you. I just didn't want to worry you."

"God, Henry," Elizabeth sighed. She rested her head against his shoulder for a moment, collecting herself. Then she looked up at him and ran her fingers over his cheek, worry and concern written all over her.

"I'm really glad you're safe, babe," she said softly, and Henry kissed her forehead.

"Me, too," he answered.

"Please don't ever keep something like that from me again," she pleaded. Henry nodded.

"Promise," he said. He attempted a smile. "You can't get mad at me, I've been shot," he said, and Elizabeth shook her head.

"Too soon, Henry."

"Sorry."

And as Elizabeth sat with him, she just took a deep breath and thanked her lucky stars that her husband was home safely with her and their children.

Even if she was still maybe a little angry at him. And that was okay, too.


	3. Waiting

**Elizabeth is worried about Henry, but uncertain that he wants to see her right then, so she sits on the floor outside his office, where he finds her asleep later that night or the next morning.**

"Where's Dad?"

It was Alison who asked, and Elizabeth could have predicted as much; her middle daughter was the known worrier of the family. Elizabeth offered her a small smile and a one-armed hug.

"Dad's fine, Noodle," she said reassuringly as she pressed a kiss against Alison's dark hair. "He's just in the office, caught up with work."

Elizabeth did her best to assuage her daughter's fears, and did a decent job; Alison maintained a worried look in her eyes, but nodded and went on about dinner. Elizabeth, however, was not as sure as she made herself out to be. She tried to focus on dinner with her kids, but she couldn't stop herself from lingering on thoughts of Henry; he'd come in earlier in the day, and gone straight to the office and shut the door. She'd called to him- of course she had- but had gotten no answer and decided to leave it be, thinking he would come out when the hands of the clock had circled and dinner time drew closer. Then, she had convinced herself that the scent of the dinner that Stevie was making with assistance from Alison would draw him out.

By the time the kids went to bed, she was beyond concerned. It was unlike him, and she didn't know what to do. She cautiously approached the door, and rapped on it lightly with her knuckles.

"Henry?" she called through the wood. "I, um...I was just checking to make sure you're okay."

There was a moment of silence, just a beat longer than was comfortable, long enough to make Elizabeth think he wasn't going to answer, and then he did.

"I'm fine," came Henry's voice through the door, but his tone was far more distant than the space between them.

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe for a moment, and then she pushed away from it and turned toward the stairs. In the bedroom she shared with Henry, she glanced at the empty bed and sighed again.

She knew she wouldn't be able to do it; the idea of sleeping in that bed with Henry avoiding her for an unknown reason in the office downstairs made her feel nauseous.

Elizabeth, resigned to what her night was going to look like, reached for her pillow and a blanket, and headed back downstairs. She slid to the floor outside the office and leaned her head back against the doorframe as her lashes fluttered closed against her cheeks. She pulled the blanket up under her chin and forced herself to keep her eyes closed, even as she wished the door would open and Henry would emerge.

It was nearly three in the morning when Henry McCord padded across the office floor and opened the door, rubbing his tired eyes, only to find his wife asleep in an awkward position on the floor. She was curled up with a blanket only half-covering her and one of his shirts draped over her shoulder. He felt his whole self soften at the sight, but his love for her was undercut by a feeling of guilt. He knew he should have taken time out of the day to explain everything to Elizabeth, but he'd been so caught up in a creative storm that he just...hadn't. Seeing Elizabeth asleep there on the floor, he realized quite suddenly that there had been no excuse for it.

He knelt next to her and smoothed his hand over her hair.

"Elizabeth, babe, wake up," he said softly. He shook her gently and she opened her eyes, squinting up at him in the half-light that was filtering in from the next room.

"Henry?" Elizabeth mumbled. As she moved, a groan escaped her lips and Henry frowned in concern, lines forming between his eyes.

"Ow," she breathed.

"Hey, let's go to bed," Henry said softly.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth asked.

Her blue eyes were as earnest as he'd ever seen them, and it hurt. He knew he'd hurt her, and he couldn't help but feel remarkably guilty. He reached out and brushed a gentle hand over her cheek.

"I'm okay, honey," he said. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

Elizabeth slowly sat up, and he watched her wince at the stiffness from sleeping on the floor even just for a few hours.

"Too old for this," she laughed, and he couldn't help but smile.

"You're indomitable," he murmured, and she shook her head, looking over at him with the same warm eyes that had caught his attention across classrooms and library tables so many years before.

"Henry, what's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he said. "I- it wasn't anything major, I just got caught up in writing and the time honestly slipped away from me. It's...inexcusable, but I really didn't mean to worry you."

Elizabeth nodded.

"Everything hurts," she admitted.

"Maybe because you slept on the floor?" he suggested.

"Yeah, for you," she rebutted, bringing a smile to his face for a moment at her quick wit. He stood and helped her to her feet, and then they both traipsed up the stairs, Elizabeth dragging her blanket unceremoniously behind her. They climbed into their bed in silence, and then, in the dark, Henry reached out to brush a strand of his wife's blonde hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I never should have disregarded you like that."

Elizabeth shook her head.

"Henry," she sighed. "It's three o' clock in the morning. I just slept on hardwood floors for you. I think we've established that I love you very much; now can we please go to sleep?"

Henry couldn't help but chuckle at her response, leaning in to press his lips against hers.

"Whatever you want, babe," he said.

"Good," she muttered, and then she was asleep, leaving Henry to marvel at the wonder than was Elizabeth Adams McCord.


	4. Blue and Green

**Prompt: The day that Henry met Elizabeth, his lifelong favorite color changed fore** ver.

October, 1988

Henry McCord had always loved the color green. It made him think of grass and trees and new life. It was healing, pleasant on his eyes. He'd liked it from the time he could remember; his mother had sewn him his favorite green blanket when he was a baby and he'd kept it ever since. While most children switched to a new favorite color every other day, Henry stuck firmly with green throughout his childhood. His youngest sister took great pleasure in asking him if he liked another color better. She would stand in the doorway of his bedroom every day and throw new colors at him.

" _What about maroon?"_

" _Erin, my favorite color is still green."_

Henry hadn't realized having one favorite color for his entire life was such a hot button issue, but it seemed that everyone found it odd- even his first college roommate, who claimed he could understand having no favorite color at all, but that sticking to one his whole life was strange.

It was on that, a chilly day in October, that Henry's whole existence was shaken. He'd been sitting at a coffee shop on campus, studying and working on a paper that was due later that week. He'd been aware of the girl's presence in that way that one can feel eyes upon them, an innate sort of knowledge, and so he'd looked up and met her gaze. She had been wearing a baby blue sweater that exactly matched the color of her eyes; warm, rather than icy, and crystal clear. Every shade of blue weaved into a pattern that was intoxicating and enchanting. Just like that, as if he'd been jolted into a new existence, Henry's favorite color was no longer green. He knew in that moment that he would have gladly never seen a shade of green again if he could look at that incredible mix of blues for the rest of his life.

And he smiled at her, held out his hand, and introduced himself to the girl with blue eyes.

 _Twenty years later…_

Henry smiled slightly as Elizabeth leaned into him and looked down at her. She leaned her head back and looked back up at him, meeting his gaze. And with that, Henry recalled that day two decades before, when Elizabeth Adams had rocked his world with her blue eyes and changed his favorite color forever. She'd asked him that on their first date, very casually.

" _What's your favorite color?" she'd said as she leaned in to take a bite of her spaghetti._

" _Blue," Henry had answered with no hesitation, as if he'd always loved blue the way he did now, now that he'd seen the most beautiful shades of blue in her ocean eyes._

" _Hmm. I like green," Elizabeth had answered, and Henry had just smiled to himself._

Now, he smiled at her and brushed his hand through her hair.

"Hey, you want to know something?" he asked.

"Yeah," she answered.

"My favorite color was green before I met you," he divulged and Elizabeth frowned.

"What?" she asked, and Henry just nodded.

"I asked you what your favorite color was on our first date and you said blue," Elizabeth reminded him, and Henry nodded again.

"I know," he answered.

"So what made it change to blue?" Elizabeth asked curiously. Henry smiled at her, tenderly and softly, and kissed her forehead.

"You," he said simply.

"Hmm?" she asked. "How?"

"You want the truth?" Henry asked.

"Of course," Elizabeth scoffed.

"The day we met, you were wearing a baby blue sweater that matched your eyes," Henry answered. He shrugged nonchalantly. "And blue has been my favorite ever since."

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment, and then she chuckled softly. She traced a nonsensical pattern on his chest and smiled as if she were thinking of something funny.

"What?" he asked.

"Did you know you were wearing a green shirt the day we met?" Elizabeth asked, and Henry just laughed as he pulled her in closer.

Maybe, he thought, it was just meant to be.


	5. Cold Feet

**Prompt: Elizabeth starts to get cold feet the night before their wedding, and she gives Henry a call before her thoughts can run away with her.**

Elizabeth paced the floor of her hotel room. She watched the way her feet traveled the same path, one step after another in an endless loop of back and forth. She couldn't turn her brain off, and it was very busy hurling questions at her at what seemed like an impossible speed.

 _What if you're too young after all?_

 _What if it really doesn't work out?_

 _What if he turns out to be different than you thought?_

 _What if you can't be a good wife?_

 _What if it fails?_

 _How can you do this without your parents?_

 _How can you do this at all?_

Elizabeth sighed heavily and sat down on the edge of the mattress. It was getting late, and she had a full day of wedding preparations in the morning, but the bed was still made and Elizabeth couldn't imagine resting just then. Her brain was way too active for that. She loved Henry, of that she had no doubt. But just then, she couldn't help but wonder if they were doing the wrong thing, getting married so soon. She exhaled heavily and reached for the phone, quickly following the instructions to reach Henry's room. After all, if there was anyone she needed to be talking to about this, it was Henry himself.

"Hello?"

There was something immediately soothing about Henry's voice, albeit not soothing enough to undercut her need to talk to him in the first place.

"Henry, it's me," she said.

"Elizabeth, hey," he said, his voice warming at the realization that he was talking to her. When she didn't say anything, Henry caught on.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"I...I don't know," she admitted. "I mean, I think I'm okay, but…"

"Cold feet?" Henry joked, but Elizabeth stayed silent and the weight of that sank in on Henry.

"Oh," he said in surprise. "You- really?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, Henry, it's just- this is such a big thing," she said, and he could hear the pleading note in her voice. "What if we're doing the wrong thing? What if it's too soon? How can we just jump into something like this, I mean, marriage is such a big thing and-"

"Elizabeth, hold on," Henry said. "It's going to be alright."

"But what if it's not?" Elizabeth whispered.

"Where is this coming from?" he asked.

"I- I don't know, I was just thinking about it all and the people who are here for us to get married and your parents and-"

Ah.

Henry breathed a sigh of relief to himself; he knew where this was coming from now, even if Elizaebth herself didn't. He nodded, even though she couldn't see him, knowing what he needed to do.

"Babe, listen," Henry said. "I'm going to come and see you, okay?"

"But I thought-"

"Who cares about that?" Henry asked before she could even finish. "I'm not superstitious and I know you're not either."

"Okay," Elizabeth agreed. "Just- don't get caught."

Henry stifled a laugh, but agreed and then hung up. A few minutes later found him knocking on elizabeth's door after a quick glance up and down the hall just for good measure. The door swung open almost immediately to reveal an anxious looking Elizabeth, and she stepped aside to let him in. Henry calmly sat on the bed and reached for her hand to tug him to sit next to him. She watched him and he smiled slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Babe, is this because you miss your parents?" he asked her gently, and she looked vaguely stricken, but stayed quiet as she thought about that.

"Maybe," she admitted. She looked earnestly up at him.

"Do you think we're ready for this, though?" she asked. "What if it all falls apart?"

Henry shook his head.

"Elizabeth, you can't let fear govern your life. You have to let the reward outweigh the risk. I know it's scary to take on something like this, but I promise you we're as ready as we're going to get, and I'm going to be right there with you."

She looked at his earnest, warm hazel eyes and could physically feel herself beginning to calm. She nodded her head.

"Yeah, you're right," she said. She thought that Henry had a point about her parents- maybe she was just so afraid to lose the people closest to her that allowing Henry to become her husband had raised some subconscious red flags. But as he took her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles, she realized that she was more than those subconscious thoughts. Henry was right; she needed to let the reward outweigh the risk. Nothing was without risk, and she couldn't imagine doing life with anyone but Henry by her side.

"Thank you," she said.

"Still wanna get married?" Henry asked. Elizabeth smiled a little shyly and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess," she teased, and Henry laughed, leaning in to give her a sweet kiss.

"You should probably go back to your room," Elizabeth said. Henry sighed, glancing between the door and Elizabeth.

"Well, I've already seen you now," he reasoned. "I don't think a few more minutes is going to do any real harm."

Elizabeth smiled as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She glanced up at him and smiled slightly as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You're not going back to your room tonight are you?" she asked, and Henry chuckled as he kissed her temple.

"I'll sneak back really early," he said. Elizabeth laughed- she certainly wasn't going to complain about that.

"If your mom catches you, I sent you away," she said, and Henry laughed, pulling her closer.

"Got it."


	6. We'll Talk Tomorrow

**Prompt: Henry doesn't take Elizabeth's worry for him seriously until she starts having nightmares and panic attacks again.**

Henry knew Elizabeth was worried.

She'd been very open about her concerns with his work; true to form, Elizabeth had been not only honest about it, but brutally so. He was well aware of it, but he couldn't help but feel that she didn't have much room to talk; she may have held what was considered a desk job, but Elizabeth got herself into more dangerous situations than he would like, too. He couldn't help but feel at least a little bit justified in ignoring her concerns, even if it was a justification that he knew was a little unfair. He buried that part deep inside, and continued on living his life, even if it was sometimes just parallel with hers.

She'd stopped mentioning it; she no longer told him how worried she was when they lie in bed side by side at night. She didn't talk about how much she wished she could know he was safe. Now, the only traces of Elizabeth's concern lie in the glances she threw his way when she thought he wasn't looking and the silences that hadn't been there before. They did a good job glossing over it all, with hugs and kisses and teasing dialogue. But it was all there, under the surface. He just pushed it aside, hoping against hope that he wouldn't have to deal with it.

Then, things started to change. He noticed that some mornings, she'd be up before him. He'd find her in the bathroom or sitting silently in the kitchen, and she'd jump a little when he showed up, but she'd always smile and reach out to him and follow her kisses with some flirty remark, and he'd be convinced that she was okay before he even got around to asking. It was a slow buildup that, later, Henry would kick himself for not seeing.

He came home from work one evening, surprised when he saw his wife's detail already posted outside their door.

"Hey, Matt," he greeted the familiar DS Agent. Matt nodded back at him and Henry smiled before he casually headed inside. The Georgetown brownstone was quiet, as it tended to be before the kids got home. They all led busy lives, and half the time not all three of them came home at all. Henry had to admit, he missed the days when he would come home from work and three rambunctious little bodies would race through the house to greet him. Now, he just silently slipped off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door before he walked through the house, thinking maybe he could catch Elizabeth and spend some time with her before either the kids arrived home or her phone rang again.

As he walked into the kitchen, his heart dropped. His wife was curled up with her knees pulled to her chest, backed against the cabinets. Her head was dropped to meet her knees, and her blonde hair was falling over her face, but he could see her shaking even from where he stood.

"Elizabeth," he said, rushing forward to drop to his knees beside her. She was physically trembling, and he could hear the sounds of her ragged breathing, in and out, the struggle obvious.

"Hey, hey," Henry said soothingly. She looked up at him, panic in her eyes and written in every line of her face. He brushed her hair back gently and cradled her cheek in his palm, holding eye contact with her.

"Baby, you're okay," he assured her. "You're okay. Just try and breathe, okay?"

"Henry," she gasped.

"It's okay," he said softly. "Here, just breathe with me, alright? Everything is going to be alright."

Elizabeth was having a panic attack; Henry watched the pain on her face even as he sat with her to ride it out. He watched his wife clutch at her own chest, fruitless attempts to get the pain to stop. He did what he could to keep her calm, or at the very least reassure her that he was there with her and that she was okay. It took a while, but eventually Elizabeth calmed down, and when she did, they sat there on the kitchen floor in silence, each of them waiting for the other to speak.

Henry moved, his intention being to get her a glass of water, but Elizabeth's hand on his arm stopped him. He looked back at her, halfway through getting up, finding fear on her face again. She didn't need to speak for him to understand that she wanted him close.

"Okay," he said soothingly as he lowered himself back to his spot beside her. "I'm right here."

Silence prevailed again; Henry, while tangling his fingers with hers, was racking his brain. Elizabeth had gotten her panic attacks under control, and he wasn't sure where this was coming from. However, as he thought about it, it started to all fall into place. The early mornings, the silences, the way she'd stopped mentioning her concerns for his safety. It was all coming together, and it left Henry feeling physically sick.

"Oh, Elizabeth," he sighed, and she looked up at him inquisitively. His eyes met hers, and he reached out to pull her close. She came willingly, curling against his chest.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he said softly. "I should have realized...you've been having nightmares, too?"

Elizabeth nodded silently.

"I didn't want you to know," she began, and he kissed her head lightly.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry. I- I should have listened to you when you said you were worried. I thought it would fade or that it was not that big of a deal, but it is, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Henry," she sighed. "It's just that every time I close my eyes, I watch you get torn to bits. It's like your deployment all over again. I sit here at night, wondering if you're ever coming home, and every time my phone rings or every time Blake walks into my office, I get this stab of fear that I'm going to get that news…"

"I know," he said. "Me, too."

"What are we going to do about it?" she asked, and he was struck by the note of hopelessness in her voice. He gave her a small smile and kissed her head again.

"Right now? Nothing," he said. "Right now, we're going to go upstairs and take a bath and then we're going to cook dinner together and have one of those nights we used to have." He smiled at her as he stood, reaching out to help her up.

"We're going to tire you out, and maybe knock out those nightmares for tonight," he murmured against her as he pulled her in close with a hand on her hip. She couldn't help but smile slightly, nodding her head.

"Okay," she agreed. "But-" she looked up at him, earnestly meeting his gaze. "We will talk about it, right?"

"Tomorrow, I promise," he said, and she smiled.

"So about that bath…"

Henry laughed as he led her up the stairs, for the moment just grateful to have her there with him, both of them safe and sound.


	7. Bundled

**Prompt: When Henry isn't there, the only way Elizabeth can sleep is to make a cocoon of her blankets, with just her nose poking out.**

Henry sighed as he walked into the home he shared with Elizabeth and their children, dropping his shoulder bag next to his desk. He exhaled heavily; he was very glad to be home after an unscheduled trip that he had been really reluctant to go on in the first place. Luckily, he'd been able to wrap things up a day earlier than he'd anticipated, putting him home a day ahead of schedule, but in the middle of the night. He glanced at his watch, finding that it was nearly two a.m.

The house was still and quiet, and Henry took a moment to walk through, reveling in the soft lights that Elizabeth had left on, the stray blanket over the back of the couch, the warmth and familiarity of home. When he'd finished his slow walkthrough of the downstairs, Henry took off his shoes and slowly climbed the stairs. He stopped in the doorway of Stevie's bedroom; her door was open, and his eldest was sleeping in her bed. Henry smiled slightly at the sight before moving on to Alison's bedroom; she, too, was home for the weekend, and as Henry watched her she shifted under her blankets. He pushed Jason's door open and chuckled to himself at the way Jason was splayed out across the mattress, his limbs tangled in the sheets. When Henry moved away from his youngest's room, he was thinking of breakfast the next morning; pancakes and syrup with all of the kids. He'd missed that, and he was even more grateful he'd gotten home early so that he could spend time with them.

He wandered down the hallway and into the bedroom he shared with Elizabeth, stopping in the doorway and smiling slightly as he viewed the scene spread out before him. Elizabeth was in their bed, situated in the center of the mattress. All of their sheets and blankets were wrapped around her like a cocoon. If he looked closely, he could see her nose poking out from her bundle of blankets, and he smiled to himself.

Henry quietly settled on the edge of the bed and leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to the tip of Elizabeth's nose. She didn't stir, so Henry gently pushed the blankets back from her head, exposing messy blonde locks of hair. She started to wake, slowly opening her eyes, and as he watched, her expression changed. She went from sleepy confusion to the warm, happy expression that she often wore when she was looking at Henry. It made him feel warm inside just looking at her, especially after the trip he'd just taken.

"Henry," she mumbled softly, and Henry smiled at her as he leaned in to press his lips gently against hers.

"Hi, baby," he said quietly as he collapsed onto the mattress with a soft grunt.

"You're home," she said. "I didn't think you were coming home until tomorrow."

"I know," he replied as he started to unravel her from the mess of blankets. "I got to come home early."

He chuckled as she squirmed in a half-asleep attempt to help him untangle her.

"Can I ask why you're all cocooned in these blankets?" he inquired, watching as his wife's cheeks flushed almost imperceptibly.

"It's easier to sleep that way," she replied. He stared at her, pausing in his actions. He knew that Elizabeth couldn't stand blankets wrapped around her half the time, so in spite of how adorable the sight had been to come home to, he was definitely suspicious.

Elizabeth sighed under his gaze.

"I do it when you're not here," she admitted. "Because it makes me feel safer. Happy now?"

Henry smiled tenderly at his wife as he tugged the last of the blankets out from under her and then immediately crawled under them with her, tugging her against his chest. She sighed contentedly and he nuzzled his nose against her hair, tousled from the blankets.

"How about now?" he asked in a low voice.

"Hmm?" Elizabeth hummed as she rolled over so that she was curled up facing him with her head nestled in the crook of his neck.

"Feel safe now?" he asked, pressing his lips against her forehead.

"With my big strong Marine-turned-professor?" she asked rhetorically as she cuddled closer to him.

"Very safe," she said as she looked up at him with a sweet smile.


	8. Attention

**Prompt: Stevie is afraid that Henry and Elizabeth will love the new baby more than her.**

Stevie had been very excited to have a little brother or sister. She had classmates who had little brothers and sisters, and it always looked like fun to her. She had been thrilled when her parents had told her that she would be getting one, too, and she had told all of her friends at preschool and her teachers that her mom was having a baby. She wanted to teach the baby everything- how to play and how to tie their shoes and what the best candies were at Halloween. Her dad had told her that she'd have to wait a while to teach the baby those things, though, because they would be too little at first to play or tie their shoes or to eat candy. Either way, Stevie was excited.

Or she had been- until she had seen how much her parents were talking about the new baby now. It seemed to be all they talked about- they were constantly discussing what they might name him or her, or whether they should find out if it was going to be a boy or a girl. Stevie had never known there was so much about babies to talk about, and she wasn't sure that she really liked it. Her mom had helped Stevie go through all of her clothes the week before, to find out which ones fit Stevie now and which ones didn't. But instead of giving the clothes away, Elizabeth had packed them up in a box.

"What are you doing that for, Mommy?" asked Stevie.

"Because if the new baby is a girl, she can wear your clothes when she gets bigger," Elizabeth had explained. Stevie wasn't sure that she liked that- and she was definitely sure she didn't like it when her parents told her that her baby brother or sister could have the toys that Stevie had played with when she was a baby.

"No," she argued when Henry explained that to her. He looked over at her in surprise, accompanied by Elizabeth with the same expression.

"No," Stevie repeated. "I don't want the baby to have my toys."

"But Stevie, honey, you don't play with them anymore," Elizabeth reasoned. Stevie shook her head, a lock of blonde hair falling in her face as she crossed her arms defiantly.

"No," she said again. "I don't want to share with the baby."

Henry and Elizabeth looked at each other for a moment, neither of them quite sure what to do with this. Henry sighed and turned back to Stevie.

"Why not?" he asked. "I thought you were excited to have a baby brother or sister."

"I was," Stevie huffed. "But…" she hung her head and scuffed her toe against the floor. "Not anymore."

"What happened, sweetheart?" Elizabeth asked.

"You guys are gonna love the new baby more than me!" Stevie exclaimed, and when she looked up there were tears in her eyes. "That's why you're giving them all my stuff."

Henry and Elizabeth exchanged a glance again, both horrified by their daughter's words. Where had they gone wrong?

Henry reached out and scooped Stevie into his arms easily, settling her on his lap.

"Stevie, sweetheart, that's not true," he began. Stevie looked between her dad and her mom, shaking her head slightly as she tried not to cry.

"Then why would you give them all my stuff and talk about them all the time?" she asked. "You used to only talk about me."

"Oh, Stevie," Elizabeth sighed. She moved to sit next to Henry and smoothed her hand over Stevie's hair. "Just because we're sharing your old things with the new baby and talking about them a lot doesn't mean that we love them more than you."

"It doesn't?" Stevie asked uncertainly.

"No, not at all," Henry replied immediately. He brushed Stevie's hair out of her face and met her eyes, so like Elizabeth's.

"Stevie, of course we love your baby brother or sister," he began. "Just like you do, right?"

Stevie nodded hesitantly; she did love the new baby.

"But that doesn't mean Mommy and I love you any less," Henry said gently. "We love you every single bit as much as we always have, and that's never, ever going to change."

"So you won't play with the new baby and forget about me?" Stevie asked. "Or- or stop waking me up to make pancakes with you?"

"Of course not," Henry answered quickly, pulling Stevie into a hug. "You're our baby, too, Stevie. We're going to love you and the new baby just the same."

"Really?" she sniffled.

"Really," Elizabeth answered as she smiled softly at her daughter. "And we're so excited to see you be a big sister, because we know you're going to be so great at it."

Stevie looked cautiously between her parents.

"You do?" she asked.

"Yeah, we do," Henry agreed. "You're going to be the best big sister ever."

Stevie smiled a little at that; she had to admit that she did like the idea of being a big sister.

"Okay," she relented. "Maybe we can give the new baby some of my toys."

"That's my girl," Henry said. "Come on, why don't you and I go outside and ride your bike while Mom finishes up here?" he suggested. Stevie lit up and seconds later she was racing off to get her helmet while Henry turned to Elizabeth.

"Was that the first sibling fight?" he asked.

"Maybe," Elizabeth chuckled. "But you know what?" she added as she leaned in to kiss him.

"What?"

"I still can't wait to mediate more of them," she admitted and Henry smiled; he had to admit that he was on the exact same page.


	9. Resting My Eyes

**Prompt: Elizabeth falls asleep at her desk and Henry comes looking for her**

Henry had been waiting for Elizabeth for nearly two hours. He'd left her downstairs after the kids had gone to bed, and she'd kissed his cheek with a promise that she'd just be a few minutes; she just had something she needed to finish up at her desk. Henry had hesitated at that; he knew that Elizabeth had had a rough day at work, and truthfully she looked exhausted. But she was stubborn to a fault, and he knew that trying to convince her to skip whatever work she had to do and just go to bed would be a losing battle to say the least. So he had nodded his head, kissed her temple, and left her in the kitchen before heading upstairs. The first fifteen minutes of his time on the upper floor had been spent checking in with the kids. Then, he'd retired to the bedroom to read and wait for Elizabeth, hoping that she wouldn't be long.

However, time had crawled on and Elizabeth had not appeared. The house was completely silent as far as Henry could tell, and he sighed as he rubbed his eyes and read the blurred red numbers on the clock. It was late; every member of their family had somewhere to be within the next eight hours and Henry was determined that he was going to spend at least a little of that time curled up with Elizabeth. So he slipped a bookmark between the pages of his book, set it down on the nightstand, put on his glasses again and threw back the blankets. He padded barefoot along the dim hallway and down the front stairs.

"Elizabeth?" he called softly, following the light of the office that streamed into the foyer. He got no answer, and so he curiously stepped into the doorway where her desk was visible. He softened at the sight before him, his slight irritation fading away instantly at the sight that met him there in the office. Elizabeth was leaning over onto her desk, head resting atop her folded arms as her blonde locks cascaded over onto the surface of the desk. When he moved slightly, he could see her peaceful features at rest, eyelashes almost brushing her cheeks and lips parted ever so slightly. She looked remarkably calm for someone who had spent her entire day in a state of stress before falling asleep at her home desk. Henry smiled at the way the light illuminated her smooth skin and made her seem as if she were glowing. He thought she always looked beautiful, but just then especially so. He smiled slightly to himself and took a moment to just watch her; radiant and bathed in warm yellow light, her chest rising and falling slowly and steadily. Then, Henry stepped forward and crouched beside her, looking up at her as he brushed his fingers through her hair and tucked it behind her ear, waking her slowly. Elizabeth stirred as Henry spoke her name softly, blinking sleepily at him.

"Hey, beautiful," he hummed quietly, watching her features lift into a soft smile at the term of endearment.

"Henry," she muttered, and something about her voice and his name spoken like that snet a jolt through Henry's whole body, like a magnetic field drawing him into her.

"Hey," he said again. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"What time is it?" Elizabeth asked, voice warm and scratchy with sleep. Henry watched her wince as she stretched and looked around.

"Bedtime," Henry answered with a small smile at the way she rolled her eyes.

"After midnight," he informed her, holding out his hand to her. She took one last glance at her desk, but ultimately turned the light off and slid her hand into Henry's, allowing him to lead her up to bed.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Elizabeth yawned as she folded herself into the mattress and drew the blankets close to her. Henry shook his head.

"It's okay," he said softly, settling in close to her at the center of their bed. Elizabeth immediately curled against his chest, and sighed contentedly as Henry wrapped her in his arms and held her close.

"Thanks for coming to look for me," Elizabeth mumbled, sounding already half asleep. "I was just...resting my eyes." Henry chuckled to himself, closed his eyes, and kissed the top of her head.

"You're welcome," he breathed. "Sleep, Elizabeth."

"Mmhmm," Elizabeth hummed, and then she shifted and he opened his eyes to find her looking at him.

"I love you, Henry," she said softly, and just like that Henry fell in love with her all over again.


	10. Memory

**Prompt: Henry might be able to joke about the time they broke up before he proposed, but Elizabeth can't even talk about it without feeling sick.**

 **MY BOOK IS AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE ON AMAZON YOU GUYS, I AM OFFICIALLY A PUBLISHED AUTHOR WHAT IS HAPPENING**

His remarks had been offhand and good-natured, and Elizabeth knew it. Yet, Henry's mention of their short-lived breakup that had prefaced his proposal had left Elizabeth sitting on the bed with her stomach churning. He cracked a joke from the bathroom, his voice drifting back to reach her in the bedroom. When she neither laughed or replied, Henry's head appeared around the doorway, concern on his face. It was amplified when he caught sight of Elizabeth on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, taking a tentative step toward her. She shrugged.

"I just don't like to think about it," she admitted. Even her voice was closed off, and Henry felt his heart drop a little bit. He hadn't meant to upset her, and now he felt a vague sense of panic, unsure what to do. He was still so new at this- they both were- and the last thing he had ever wanted to do was make her look at him the way she was now.

"I- I'm sorry," he said, feeling that it was quite an inadequate response, but unsure how else to proceed. He watched her curl in on herself just a little bit more and felt it in his chest. Deciding that he should just follow his instincts, Henry took one, two, three hesitant steps toward her and sat down next to her on the bed. She looked up at him, vulnerable and unsure herself, and Henry was reminded forcefully of their youth and inexperience with it all.

"No, I'm- it's stupid," she said dismissively. As she turned her gaze away from him, he could almost feel her shutting down, throwing up protective walls that he wanted so desperately to be on the other side of.

"No, it isn't," he said softly. She glanced over at him and he wrapped a warm, protective arm around her shoulders. She leaned almost imperceptibly into him and he pressed his lips to her head.

"It isn't?" she asked tentatively.

"No, of course not," he assured her. "I was being insensitive. I guess I just didn't consider the fact that, since you don't have all the information, you might view the whole thing differently than I do."

She pulled back slightly to look at him inquisitively, taking the bait.

"What do you mean, I don't have all the information?" she asked, and Henry smiled slightly at her.

"Well...I guess you probably thought, when I left, that there was a chance I wasn't coming back," he surmised. She nodded slowly.

"Yeah, a decent one at that. I mean...you left," she added uncertainly, and Henry nodded.

"Yes, and that probably wasn't entirely fair," he admitted, "because I knew that there wasn't a chance I wasn't coming back."

Elizabeth let that sink in for a moment, meeting his warm hazel eyes.

"There wasn't?" she asked. Henry shook his head.

"No," he confirmed with confidence in his voice. He kissed her forehead lightly and pulled her slightly closer to him.

"I was always coming back to you, Elizabeth. I never considered leaving you for good, not for a second."

There was something incredibly reassuring about the certain way he said those words, the way his gaze on hers never wavered, the way he held her close as he spoke. Suddenly, Elizabeth didn't feel so sick anymore. There was something about Henry and his reassurances that seemed to have that effect on her, something that was almost magical. Her insecurity was still there, and she still wondered, but it wasn't so bad. Not so intense, not so hard to deal with. Fading away slowly, but surely, as Henry held her. She didn't ever want that feeling to go away, that sense of security that Henry lent to her.

"I wouldn't," Henry said after a moment of comfortable silence had passed. She glanced up at him and he met her gaze again.

"I wouldn't leave you," he clarified. "You're everything, Elizabeth. I wouldn't have left you then, and I wouldn't now."

Often, especially over the course of the years since the death of her parents, Elizabeth had felt it necessary to call into question the sincerity of the things people said to her. It had become all but habit, and she often did it without thinking. But not now. Not with Henry. She took his words to heart, instantly. She didn't need to wonder, didn't need to question. Because she knew. She knew that he meant what he said, and if he said it, it was with purpose and he had a reason for doing so. Henry, she could trust. And she did. That, she thought as she snuggled into him, was the best feeling in the world.

Well, that, and being wrapped up there with him, just like that.


	11. When The World Stopped

**Prompt: Jason gets hurt at the Montreal bombing and Elizabeth has to call Henry and tell him.**

 **I have other prompts in my inbox but this one struck my creativity so here you go.**

Elizabeth's hands were shaking. She could still smell the smoke on her hair, and feel the panic within her chest as she had broken away from her security in search of her son. And then she'd found him- lying on the ground, not moving, Piper kneeling at his side, looking from a distance so still that he might have been-

Even now, she physically shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of that thought. She couldn't go there- she hadn't been able to then, and she wasn't able to now. It was terrifying, far too much so. Now, she leaned against the wall in the hospital waiting room and listened as the phone rang once, then twice, and then three times before Henry picked up with a simple greeting and Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat.

"Henry."

Her voice was as shaky as her hands, and henry caught it immediately.

"Elizabeth? What's wrong?" he asked.

"There was- there was a bomb," she managed to say.

"What?" Henry's voice was sharp. "A bomb? Are you okay?"

"It's not- the bomb was at the protest."

There was a ringing kind of silence that followed her words as the reality of what that meant set in on Henry. Visions of Jason in all kinds of positions that he had never, ever wanted to imagine swam before Henry in those moments, and he felt suddenly sick.

"Oh god, Elizabeth, tell me he's okay."

"He's- he's in surgery right now."

Henry fought back a wave of nausea at that.

"Henry," she whimpered. "This is all my fault."

And just like that, his instincts were back and kicking in full-force in spite of his fear for their youngest child.

"Elizabeth," he said gently. "That's not true. It's not your fault, and you can't blame yourself." As he spoke, Henry was rushing around their home office in search of his passport. He forced himself to steady his thoughts for a moment and then the image of it tucked away in his desk drawer sprang to mind and he immediately turned to grab it.

"I brought him here," Elizabeth said.

"You couldn't have known, babe," Henry said. "Listen to me, okay?"

"Okay."

"I know you're scared," he said. "I get it. I'm scared, too. But you've gotta be strong for Jason- and for Piper; is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine," Elizabeth answered.

"Okay. I'm on my way out the door as we speak, and I'm going to be there as soon as I can but in the meantime, you can't blame yourself because Jason needs you. And you're not going to be able to be there for him now if you keep convincing yourself that you were the cause of this. You couldn't have known or prevented this, Elizabeth, but what you can do is be there for Jason now. Alright?"

There was something undeniably steadying about Henry's words, spoken to her so evenly and with such steadiness that she couldn't help but see past her own emotion and recognize the truth to his words.

"Yeah," she said shakily. "Yeah, okay."

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

She could have fallen apart right then and there, hearing the layers of fear in her husband's voice that were mirrored within her own heart.

"I love you, too," she replied, and then quickly hung up. She'd have her security detail let Henry know where to go- just then, she knew that if she stayed on the line with him for another moment, every ounce of the strength which which he'd imbued her would fade with alarming rapidity.

She clutched her phone and leaned her head back against the wall. She couldn't imagine what her life would look like without her son. Jason was her baby, and she could no sooner imagine what it would be like to lose him than she could imagine willing her own heart to cease its beating- that, however, was exactly what she felt might happen if she had to say goodbye to Jason. She didn't want to think about it- couldn't think about it, not then. And yet, it was all she could think about as she stood there and waited.

She could feel eyes on her and looked up and to the right, finding Piper hovering nearby, watching her. The young girl looked away quickly when Elizabeth looked up and Elizabeth sighed, pushing off the wall to approach her, finding her son's girlfriend with tears in her eyes.

"Piper," Elizabeth said softly. "Have you spoken with your parents?"

"Yes," Piper whispered. "They're on their way here now."

"Okay, good. You doing okay?" Elizabeth asked. Henry was right, after all- she had to be strong for Piper as well as Jason, and if nothing else it gave her a welcome distraction from thinking herself in circles. She sat on a nearby chair and gestured for a hesitant Piper to join her.

"It's my fault," Piper whispered, looking down at her hands. She turned her shining, fearful dark eyes on Elizabeth. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"Oh, Piper, it's not your fault," Elizabeth answered immediately.

"But I'm the one who wanted to come here in the first place and if I hadn't then he wouldn't have gotten hurt."

Suddenly, Elizabeth understood Henry's insistence that it wasn't her fault. Being on the other side of that equation, she found, was healing in a certain way.

"You can't live your life that way," she said gently. "Blaming yourself for the things that happen. You're only going to make yourself miserable."

Piper looked over at her cautiously.

"So you're not angry with me?" she asked in a small voice. Elizabeth managed a small smile as she offered her hand to the young girl.

"No," she replied. "I'm angry at the people who hurt Jason. But not at you."

And the two of them sat there in silence for the intervening hours, the solidarity enough.

Piper's parents had arrived shortly before Henry, but by the time he got there, they had already convinced Piper to go back to the hotel with them, with Elizabeth assuring them they would be updated on Jason later in the day. She'd barely settled back into her seat for even more waiting when familiar footsteps approached. Elizabeth looked up, feeling a rush of relief at the sight of her husband. She was on her feet instantly and in Henry's arms the next second. The two of them clung to one another there in the cool, sterile hospital hallway.

"Henry," Elizabeth breathed. Henry just silently drew her in closer to him and closed his eyes briefly. He'd stared out the window of the plane and thought endlessly of Jason; their third child, the baby they'd been unsure whether they had wanted to have, the baby who had completed their family. Their only bright spot in a very dark time for the whole country, the hilarious child who delighted in everything and made them all laugh at a time when laughter was few and far between. Now, the idea that they could lose Jason from their lives was more than either of them could bear. Elizabeth leaned into Henry, blinking back tears.

"Have you heard anything?" Henry asked softly. Elizabeth just shook her head, and Henry held her more tightly.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered, but neither of them were sure whether it was more for her benefit or for his. The two of them sat in silence for nearly another hour, hands clasped tightly together as they each processed- together, but apart. Henry prayed as he had on the plane ride to Canada, and Elizabeth thought of Jason and all that he had brought to her life: how deeply fulfilling it had been so far to be his mother, to teach him and love him and stand by him. To watch him grow and see him stand up for her or for his sisters. She found herself hoping that whatever force of the universe her husband believed in would take mercy on them and keep Jason safe.

And then the doctor was there, standing before them, and Elizabeth's heart was racing as she tightened her hold on Henry's hand.

"Secretary McCord," the doctor began. She wanted to correct him- it's Elizabeth- but she found that she couldn't speak.

"And Dr. McCord," he added with a nod to Henry, who stayed silent as well. "I'm happy to tell you that Jason is going to be just fine."

The doctor went on to explain the whole thing, but neither Henry nor Elizabeth heard him. There would be time for information later; right now, all that mattered was that Jason was safe and their world had begun to turn again.


	12. Expected Response

**Prompt: Elizabeth accepts Henry's proposal, and then he promptly breaks down or gets sick, because he'd been terrified she would say no.**

 **I normally like to keep to the skywriter proposal, but that didn't quite sound like the actions of a man who was terrified that he was going to get rejected so I opted for something simpler.**

Elizabeth looked around the nearly deserted park and shivered slightly, drawing her jacket in closer to her. She took a deep breath, thinking back on the strange week she'd been having. A breakup (maybe?) and three days of solitude in which she had allowed her mind to wander through countless outcomes- none of which were particularly pleasant ones. And then, this morning, Henry had called.

" _Elizabeth?"_

" _Henry."_

 _She'd heard him clear his throat on the other line._

" _Can you meet me in the park?" he asked, and Elizabeth sighed. She debated that for a moment- should she go? Should she tell him no? Could she tell him no?_

 _No, she decided. She couldn't._

" _What time?"_

And now, she was here and waiting for Henry. She was early, but a glance at her watch told her that the meeting time was creeping close- fear began to creep in as well. What if Henry didn't show at all? How dumb would she feel then? Already she was overwhelmingly confused- the behavior he'd been exhibiting this week was quite unlike Henry, all things considered, and she wasn't sure why. Now, as she glanced up and saw him heading in her direction- right on time- she couldn't help the way her heart leapt in her chest. He approached, fidgeting inside the pocket of his jacket and offered her a small smile.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," he answered. "Listen, um, thanks for meeting me."

Elizabeth nodded her head, but didn't offer a verbal response, determined to play her cards close to the vest regardless of how she felt on the inside.

"I'm sorry for walking out on you the other day," Henry began nervously. "I shouldn't have done that, I just- I just needed to think."

"Think about what?" Elizabeth asked, her voice measured. Henry looked over at her, meeting her gaze, and took a deep breath.

"This," he said, and before Elizabeth could even process what was happening, Henry was on one knee in front of her and she felt as if her heart had leapt into her throat at the sight of him there in front of her, an engagement ring in his hand as he looked earnestly up at her.

"Henry," Elizabeth began.

"I'm sorry for leaving," he said. "But I did that because I realized how much I love you, how I can't imagine my life without you. I know I went about it the wrong way but I guess that's kind of the point. I want to be with you regardless, through everything. I want you in my life for every moment, Elizabeth. Every doubt and every bad decision alongside all the good ones. I got freaked out because I thought we were too young or something, but..we're not. I know what I want, and it's you. Forever, through it all." He swallowed hard. "Elizabeth Adams, will you marry me?" he asked, and Elizabeth normally would have noticed the way that his voice wavered but at that moment she was in too much shock to pay attention. She met his eyes and suddenly, an overwhelming feeling washed over her- a certainty unlike anything she had ever really experienced.

"Yes," she said, and she did so without even the shadow of a doubt. There was a moment of utter stillness, and then Henry dropped his head, his shoulders shaking with sobs. It took Elizabeth a moment to process that; it was not quite what she'd been expecting. Nonetheless, she dropped to her knees in front of him and drew his gaze up to hers with a gentle touch on his cheek.

"Hey," she said softly. "Henry, breathe."

He took a slow breath in an attempt to steady himself.

"What's wrong?" Elizabeth asked gently.

"I just- I was so sure you would-"

"I would what?"

"Say no," Henry answered. They looked at one another and then Elizabeth laughed, breaking the tension through her own tears.

"I couldn't," she said as Henry himself started to smile at the sound of her laughter. "Come on, Henry, how could I say no to such a memorable proposal?"

"You mean one where prior to it you thought the relationship was over?" Henry asked, and as she nodded they both laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Elizabeth looked down at the rng that Henry was holding and Henry took his cue, sliding it onto her finger with a shaking hand. She wrapped her arms around him as they both knelt there on the ground in the park and Henry held her tight.

It hadn't been quite what he'd been expecting. It had been a million times better than he had dared to hope for- and everything he ever could have wanted.


	13. The Next Office

Prompt: Elizabeth leaves her office at the State Department for the last time

Elizabeth couldn't believe that it was ending. It seemed like just yesterday she had entered this office for the first time, the desk cleared out for her and surrounded by strangers as she'd stared at the lush carpeting and wondered what the hell she'd gotten herself into. If you'd told the Elizabeth McCord of 2014 that she would be walking out of that office as the president-elect of the United States, she would have laughed- loudly. It would have been a laughable prospect, as the Elizabeth McCord of 2014 had barely been convinced to take that job, let alone the biggest one in the country. She had never had political ambitions, and she still didn't, but that seemed to be the only thing that hadn't changed.

She certainly had. She was different now. Her family was different now. Her marriage was different. Her goals were different.

Though, she thought upon further reflection, there actually were other things that were still the same. She was still an out of the box thinker. She still felt a great sense of duty to her country. She was still a mother who loved her children. She was still a wife who loved her husband. She still liked to scope out the food situation at every function she went to. She was still a disaster in the kitchen.

But she wasn't the same person she'd been at first. She was different now in both good and bad ways, she supposed. That, however, was the course of life. She'd learned that. She'd learned many lessons from her time there in that office, and now as she looked around it was with a bittersweet feeling. Another thing that the Elizabeth of 2014 wouldn't have believed was that the office of Secretary of State would become comfortable and familiar to her, but now that was exactly what had happened. She felt like she knew that place, knew her role there. It was familiar and it was comfortable. The Oval Office, on the other hand...well, she might have been familiar with which seat was the most well-cushioned, but she was far from familiar with all that came with it. It was frightening, the prospect of running the country, and if she was being honest, Elizabeth wasn't really looking forward to it all that much. She knew that she would probably come to love aspects of the job, just as she had this one, but a greater part of her wanted to move back to Virginia with Henry and settle in at the horse farm and leave all the politics of DC in her rearview mirror. Her life had not been the same since she'd taken this job, and it was about to get even crazier.

As Elizabeth put the final possessions in a box on the sofa, she contemplated whether she was ready for that; for her life to get even crazier and for even more responsibility to be resting upon her shoulders. But she looked down at her wedding picture resting in the box and thought of Henry's response when she had voiced those same concerns to him.

"Babe, you're ready," he had said, voice steady as his hands rested on her shoulders. "You may not believe that, at least not yet, but you're ready."

She trusted Henry, and she thought he might be right. She shrugged to herself as she picked up her box and took one last look around.

If she wasn't ready, she was in big trouble, because the time had come regardless.

Outside the office, her staff stood in a line, waiting for her. Elizabeth sighed. She'd been hoping to avoid this, not wanting to become more emotional than she already was. However, she couldn't say that she wasn't glad to see them all standing there. They all had played a vital role in her success of this office, and though they'd had a rocky start, she now found that she couldn't have been more grateful for them.

"Madam Secretary," they chorused, as if they'd rehearsed it, looking like schoolchildren at the end of the year as they stood there before her. Elizabeth smiled at them, meeting the eyes of each of them.

"Got everything cleared out?" Jay asked, with a glance at Blake, who didn't look as though he trusted himself enough to speak.

"Yeah," Elizabeth replied. She sighed as she looked them all over. "I want to thank you all," she said. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"Please don't," Blake begged, and Elizabeth smiled at him as she continued.

"And," she started, "I want you all to know that I'm still in your corner. If you ever need anything, I promise I will do what I can. And I'm sure I'll be seeing you all in some capacity or another."

Elizabeth smiled at them again and took a moment to look around. This was an ending, but it was also a beginning, and she found herself grateful. Grateful for them and for the opportunities the office had brought her and grateful for every step that had led her to this.

"I'm headed home to Henry," she said gently. "Before things get really crazy. You're all coming to the inauguration, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," came the answer in a chorus of familiar voices, and Elizabeth smiled again.

"Thanks, guys," she said, and her simple words carried more weight than they might have in a different situation, more than they had all the times she had spoken them at the end of morning meetings.

And with that, Elizabeth turned and walked away from them, toward the elevator for the last time, barely able to resist one final glance over her shoulder as she headed on to the next office.


	14. The Return

**Prompt: There's no ultimatum, so Elizabeth takes the job in Baghdad but she's miserable and she can read between the lines that Henry and the kids are struggling without her, so she quits and returns to them.**

Elizabeth signed heavily and rested her head in her hands. The pages on her desk swam before her, blurry and out of focus. She couldn't take any of it in, the words making no real sense to her and the concepts she was supposed to be reading up on making even less. She dropped her head to the desk. This desk job in Baghdad was turning out to be the worst decision she'd ever made. She had not been so unhappy since the period of time following her parents' deaths and, thinking back on the phone call she'd had with Henry two days earlier, she didn't think things were much better at home.

"How are the kids?" Elizabeth had asked as she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes to listen to her husband's voice. Henry hesitated.

"They're okay," he said evasively, but Elizabeth could read him too well; she caught it instantly.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Henry sighed.

"Jason's sick," he admitted. "He's okay," Henry added quickly before Elizabeth could question him. "It's just a sinus infection, but he's pretty miserable and he misses you. We all do."

It didn't take a genius to decode Henry's cautious tone; Elizabeth bit back tears and sighed.

"Can I talk to him?" she asked, trying not to sound too hopeful since she knew what time it was there.

"Uh, he's asleep but I can-"

"No," Elizabeth interrupted, though her disappointment was clear in her voice. "Let him sleep."

"I'm sorry," Henry said apologetically.

"No," Elizabeth said again. "It's not your fault."

But it is yours, said the nagging voice in her head.

And now, Elizabeth was sitting at her desk in tears- just as she had been every day. And in that moment, it hit her. She really couldn't do this. She had thought it every day- that she couldn't do it. But Elizabeth McCord had never backed down like that; she'd never been one to quit. So she had pushed the thought aside, over and over again. And now, suddenly, with a burst of unrivaled clarity, Elizabeth knew that she couldn't anymore. She couldn't let her sick youngest child cry for her across the world and at the same time do justice to her job. And there, with her papers swimming before her, she knew exactly what she had to do.

"Daddy!" Stevie called. "There's someone at the door."

Henry sighed. He was stretched beyond thin just then; going on three months home with the kids while Elizabeth was in Baghdad was really getting to him. With Jason still recovering from his sinus infection and Alison going through a phase that was rife with temper tantrums, Henry wasn't even sure how to cope. And now of course there was someone at the door. He lifted Jason into his arms and took a cautious galnce at Alison; moments before, she'd been screaming about her shoes, and now she was playing quietly. He prayed it would last long enough for him to deal with their unexpected visitor and headed down the staris.

"Daddy?" Stevie called.

"I'm coming, Stevie," he replied, forcing himself to keep his voice even. "Thanks, baby," he told her as he spared a smile for her and headed for the door. When he pulled it open and found himself face to face with his wife, he stopped cold and stared.

"Elizabeth," he breathed.

"Mama!" Jason squealed, and as Henry watched, Elizabeth's face broke into the brightest smile.

"Hi, sweet boy," she said, and Henry almos broke down at just the sound of her voice, there and in person and not crackling over the poorly connected phone line. Jason reached for her and Elizabeth took him into her arms just as Stevie peeked around the corner behind Henry and raced for Elizabeth with a happy squeal.

"Mama, you're home!" she exclaimed gleefully. "You're home, you're home!"

"I am home," Elizabeth said through her tears as she embraced her children, feeling such intense relief in that moment that she couldn't even begin to articulate it. She looked up and met Henry's gaze, tears streaming down his cheeks, and immediately stood. She threw her arms around Henry as the children clung to her and he held her close.

"What happened?" he asked through tears. "You're okay, right? You're not hurt?"

Elizabeth shook her head against Henry and pulled back just enough to look up at him.

"I couldn't do it," she admitted. "I just- I couldn't do it, Henry. I had to come home."

Henry just pulled her close again- he didn't need to speak. Neither of them did. Elizabeth was home, their family was back together, and that was more than enough.


	15. BDE

**A/N: This happened thanks to a post from incorrectmsec on twitter and my conversations with Ellie so here you have it. (We're gonna pretend Henry still teaches at either georgetown or UVA for the purpose of this fic, doesn't matter which really)**

Henry was puzzled. He couldn't quite make sense of the conversation he'd just overheard. Some of his youngest students- a class of freshmen who had been discussing him. He wasn't a proponent of eavesdropping, but he' been unable to avoid hearing the conversation.

"What about Dr. McCord?" the young girl whose name he was fairly sure was Katherine, had been giggling as Henry passed by.

"Definite BDE," replied another student confidently. The group then burst into raucous laughter, having no idea that Henry was nearby.

"He's a dad!" one of the others exclaimed. "Of, like, adults."

"BDE," said the second student decisively. There was more laughter, and Henry walked away unnoticed, but also unsure.

Now, he was home and he still had not figured out what the acronym could possibly stand for. He was sitting at his desk, a piece of paper laid flat on the surface before him and his pen in his hand. The letters BDE were written at the top, but the only possible solution he'd come up with to write beneath it read, "Best Dad Ever."

It didn't make very much sense, but they had mentioned that he was a dad, so he thought it was possible. He sighed, looking down at the page, and was still looking at it when the front door opened a few minutes later and Elizabeth stepped inside.

"Hey," she called to him.

"Hey," he answered, barely glancing up at her as he continued to focus on the paper before him. It took Elizabeth no time at all to notice that something was up with henry; he only responded that unenthusiastically to her when he was deeply focused on something. She slipped out of her shoes and headed over to his desk, pausing behind him with her hands resting on his shoulders as she peered down at the paper he was looking at. When she read the letters across the top, she froze.

"Uh, Henry, what is that?" she asked cautiously. She'd been informed recently by Daisy what those letters stood for, after twitter users had been utilizing them to describe Elizabeth herself.

"There were these kids in the library earlier and they were talking about some of the teachers, and this came up in reference to me," he said. Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh as she glanced down at the words her husband had written beneath, with a neat little bullet point in front of them. Henry whirled around to stare at her as she nearly doubled over with laughter.

"What?" he demanded. "What's so funny? Do you know what it means?"

"Well it doesn't mean best dad ever," Elizabeth wheezed. Henry rolled his eyes; he'd known it was a stretch.

"So you do know what it means?" he pressed, trying to sound forceful but failing because he found it impossible not to smile when Elizabeth was laughing like that.

"Yes," she managed through her laughter, leaning on the desk as she attempted to collect herself. "Daisy told me."

"So what is it?" Henry asked. Elizabeth bit her lip, leaned in, took Henry's pen, and jotted down the correct words, watching his face as she moved away. He read them and his eyes widened. He looked over at her incredulously.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Yes," she laughed. "That's what it means, Henry, I swear."

"But- but wait. Why was Daisy telling you this?" he asked, his voice slightly higher than normal. Elizabeth couldn't help but giggle at the sound.

"Because people on twitter said that I have it," she replied. Henry squeaked as he looked between his wife and the paper.

"What?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "You think I don't?"

"I- I don't-" Henry sighed, shaking his head as he leaned back. "I don't get it," he admitted wearily. Elizabeth laughed, and patted his shoulder as she walked by him.

"That's because you're not hip," she said, and Henry snorted.

"Neither is the word hip," he replied as he stood to follow her, deciding then and there to leave BDE in the past and to those who clearly understood it better than he ever would.


	16. A New Look

**Prompt: Henry doesn't realize that Elizabeth is getting reading glasses, and when he sees her wearing them for the first time, it brings him to his knees.**

Henry stepped carefully into the entryway of his home; most of the lights were off, but the soft glow of Elizabeth's reading lamp bathed the hardwood floor in warm light, which drew Henry in with the allure of finding his wife. He missed her when they were apart, even if only for the day. Often, he heard colleagues and friends who complained about their wives, citing their nagging among a whole host of other things that annoyed them. Henry had never been able to relate; he and Elizabeth had their issues from time to time, their arguments and days when they grated on one another's nerves. But he had never found her annoying, and certainly not to the extent that he would ever complain about her to anyone else. He couldn't imagine ever speaking ill of Elizabeth to anyone. He'd never enjoyed anyone's company more than he did Elizabeth's, and now as he slipped out of hs shoes, he couldn't wait to see her and catch up on the day. Setting his bag down on the floor, he journeyed the few steps into the office and then stopped in his tracks. Elizabeth, the only member of the McCord family still awake, was sitting at her desk and on the bridge of her delicate nose rested a pair of simple yet elegant black frames. They curved over her ears and buried themselves in her locks of blonde hair and cast faint shadows along the smooth skin of her face. Henry's breath caught in his chest as Elizabeth, having not noticed him at all, just continued to make notes on the page before her. Henry could barely breathe; he'd never seen his wife in glasses before, and the sight was truly one to behold. Something about the elegance of it added to the poise that she already possessed in spades and the combination of the newness and the sheer Elizabethness of it sent Henry into a tailspin instantly.

Finally noticing him, Elizabeth glanced up and smile and Henry's heart leapt against his ribcage in what he could only assume was some desperate attempt to reach Elizabeth. He stared at her in silence and she hesitated.

"Henry?" she asked. "What?"

He continued to stare, and Elizabeth reached up and self-consciously touched the frames of her glasses.

"Are they really that bad, I mean-" she began, tugging at them with a light touch. Henry shook his head.

"Leave them," he said, his voice soft. Something about his tone struck her and Elizabeth looked up at the sound.

"What?" she asked.

"Leave them," Henry repeated, taking a step forward at last, and then another, and another until he was next to Elizabeth. He gazed down at her in awe and she watched him, looking vaguely bemused.

"Do you like them?" she asked.

"I do," Henry answered quietly. He leaned in and kissed Elizabeth tenderly, his fingertips brushing over the surface of her new frames.

"I thought they made me look kinda old," Elizabeth admitted, and Henry shook his head quickly, never taking his eyes off of her. He couldn't get enough of looking at her- as if he ever could, but now especially.

"Not at all," he vowed. He smiled slightly as he continued to look at her. "I think they're kinda sexy."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at him and the glasses moved just a millimeter, just enough to draw Henry's attention to them again.

"Oh you do?" Elizabeth asked, her voice the tiniest bit lower than it had been, a little bit more sultry.

"Mmhmm," Henry hummed. He rested against the desk, right in front of her, blocking her view of the thing that she'd been working on. Elizabeth leaned back and crossed her arms.

"I was working on that," she said.

"Uh huh," Henry agreed. "I know."

"And now what am I supposed to do?" she asked. Henry shrugged.

"I have some ideas," he answered vaguely. Elizabeth grinned.

"I do too," she said, and reached for her glasses again. Henry lunged forward, tugging her wrist to pull her hand away from the frames and tangled up their fingers.

"The thing is," he began as he inched closer to her and met her eyes, "every one of my plans involve you in those glasses."

And Elizabeth just laughed, thinking to herself that maybe she could manage the glasses after all.


	17. Pinkie Promise

**Prompt: one of the little McCords makes Henry or Elizabeth pinkie swear.**

Elizabeth could not recall the last time she'd felt so helpless. She stood beside Henry, cradling her youngest, four year old Jason, in her arms as he clung to her, his legs wrapped around her waist as he cried, little fingers wrinkling her blouse in his tight grip.

"Baby, I promise it's going to be okay," she attempted to soothe him, looking helplessly at Henry over Jason's head.

"Buddy, Mama's going to be back soon," Henry said in an attempt to help, but Jason just shook his head against Elizabeth.

"No," he cried. "I don't want you to go, Mama."

Elizabeth would have sworn that her heart was shattering. She had a work trip to go on, the first she had gone on in Jason's memory, and it turned out that their little mama's boy was not thrilled with it. He'd been fine with it in concept, but now the reality of it had settled in and he wasn't happy with it. Elizabeth would have given anything in that moment to stay home and hold Jason for the rest of the day; a glance at her watch reminded her that it was not an option and she took a steadying breath, running her fingers through Jason's hair.

"Jason, honey, I promise you I'm going to be back before you know it," she said softly. "You know that Mama doesn't make promises that she can't keep, right?"

Jason nodded hesitantly against her.

"Right," she said encouragingly. "So there's nothing to be scared of, see? You and Daddy are going to do such fun things and your big sisters will be here. And it's going to go by so quickly. So, so fast. I promise."

"But I'm scared," Jason whimpered.

"I know," Elizabeth soothed. "I know. It's okay to be scared, baby, but you just have to trust Mama and Daddy, alright? We would never let anything bad happen to you, not if we can help it, and it's all going to be just fine."

Jason pulled back, his fingers still wrapped in the fabric of her shirt. His earnest eyes met hers, wide and trusting, so much so that Elizabeth almost called and cancelled her trip then and there, her job be damned.

"You promise?" he asked softly, and Elizabeth nodded her head.

"Promise," she echoed. Jason seemed to think about that for a moment, and then he hesitantly held out his pinky finger to her.

"Pinky promise?" he asked seriously. Elizabeth nodded her head again, linking her own pinky finger with his small one.

"Pinky promise," she said. Jason nodded.

"Okay," he whispered. Then he wrapped his arms around her neck and hugged tightly, holding close to her.

"I'll be back before you know it," she whispered. "I love you so much, sweet boy."

"Love you, Mama," Jason mumbled, and then Henry picked Jason up, pulling him away from Elizabeth with a small, sympathetic smile for his wife.

"Alright bud, wave goodbye to Mama, okay?" Henry instructed. Elizabeth tugged her suitcase toward her and then leaned in to kiss Henry, whose touch on her shoulder was warm, familiar, and understanding.

"I'll see you both on Monday, okay?" Elizabeth said, stalling just a little bit. Henry nodded and smiled.

"Have a good trip, babe. Call when you get there," Henry answered.

"I will," she promised with one last kiss to each of her boys' cheeks. She smiled at them, waved, and then she was gone, with one last glance at Jason's little hand waving her goodbye.

Right then, Elizabeth decided that this was going to be her last work trip for a while.


	18. Worth It

**A/N: Guess who actually wrote something?! That's right, I'm back! Sort of. I have this for you either way- we'll see if I start up anything more than this or write more but maybe! For now, enjoy this little one-shot :) I love you all and am so thankful for your support whether I am writing five fics a day or zero.**

 **Prompt: the skywriter thing wasn't as completely random as it sounds- it's because of something Elizabeth said on one of their first dates (perhaps a joke she made) and Henry has never forgotten it.**

Henry glanced over at Elizabeth in the warm slivers of incandescence that filtered through the street lamps to light the meandering sidewalk on which the two of them made their path. In the night air, Elizabeth's blonde curls lifted briefly from her skin to reveal elegant facial structure and delicate eyelashes that Henry thought he could probably gaze at forever and never be tired of looking. It was only the second time he'd taken her out, and yet he was already completely entranced. Truth be told, he thought as she glanced over at caught his eye, he had been from the moment they had met. It hadn't taken two dates for him to know what an incredible, delightful human being Elizabeth Adams was, and Henry thought he might just devote the rest of his life to learning everything about her.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was falling harder for this Henry McCord than she would have wanted to. There was just something about him, some kind of charm or some ease in the way that he spoke to her, that made her feel at home and as if she belonged. She'd never felt that way with anyone, at least not in a long, long time. It was at once reassuring and unsettling; she couldn't imagine getting attached to that feeling only to have it ripped away from her again, and as she stood on that precipice she wondered if it was worth it. She looked over at Henry only to find him watching her- thoughtfully, openly, with no scrutiny behind the wonder in his hazel eyes, and warmth spread over her like a summery breeze, something exotic in the cold Virginia night. If asked right then, Elizabeth though she would probably say that it was worth it.

"What's the best thing anyone has ever done for you?" Henry asked abruptly; normally, he was a better conversationalist than this, but he was just so desperate to know the deepest things about Elizabeth that to spend his time discussing anything more routine seemed futile just then. Elizabeth furrowed her brow and tilted her head, looking vaguely uncomfortable as she considered the question. Henry thought that he liked that about her- that she would take his sudden question as just that- a question- and not beat around the bush wondering why he would ask it in the first place.

"I don't know," she answered honestly.

"You don't know?" Henry repeated, surprise and a hint of amusement lifting the notes of his voice.

Elizabeth flashed him a quick smile as they walked side by side, somehow both open and covert, a paradox in itself as much as Elizabeth herself seemed to be sometimes.

"It's not like people are lining up to hire skywriters for me, you know," she quipped with a laugh that sounded like the best kind of music, and Henry smiled slightly as he watched her.

"They should be," he said decisively, catching the flash of hesitant surprise and affection on her face at his words.

And that had been that, until now, as Henry glanced between his watch and the path that led to the little open field where he stood, waiting for Elizabeth. As he nervously counted down, Henry thought back on that conversation and the countless moments since in which he had reflected that same sentiment. Elizabeth, he thought, deserved to have a million people lining up to hire skywriters for her, and yet somehow she had chosen him. He wasn't sure where his momentary insanity and fear had come from; all his hours apart from her had taught him was that he never wanted to be anywhere but at her side. Now, he just hoped that this gesture- and more importantly, the sentiment behind it- would translate from his heart to his brain to his mouth in a way that made enough sense to convince the girl of his dreams to marry him.

"Henry?"

She had approached from the opposite direction, catching him off guard. He whirled around and his breath caught. She looked beautiful, he thought a little bit wildly, with her hair down like that and the way her eyes somehow managed to be the exactly the color of the sky that served as a backdrop for- wait. The sky. Right. Henry checked his watch nervously, and Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in question.

"Elizabeth," Henry breathed.

"Hi," she said. She watched him for a moment, and then: "Are you okay?"

Henry let out a breath and flashed her a nervous smile.

"I'm okay," he answered. "Listen, I'm really sorry for walking out like I did. I just- I needed to clear my head and I went about it all the wrong way, and I'm just-"

But Elizabeth's gaze was no longer on Henry, and she was squinting at something behind him, and Henry's heart leapt in his chest when he turned slowly to find that the skywriting- his grand gesture- seemed to be starting early.

"Is that a skywriter?" Elizabeth asked, and Henry was seized by a bizarre urge to either laugh or throw up; he wasn't sure which. Perhaps both.

"Yeah," he breathed. As they watched, Elizabeth in blatant curiosity and Henry in abject horror, letters appeared one after another in the sky.

"Mar?" Elizabeth asked. Henry took a risky glance at her, head tilted quizzically to the side as she tried to make sense of the message.

"Mar me," she read slowly. "Is someone trying to-" but she broke off as the plane continued to misspell the final word in the trifecta, leaving the message _Mar Me, Elibet_ suspended in the sky.

"Elibet," she whispered, and Henry could practically hear the gears turning in her head as she whirled to face him. Henry looked hopelessly between Elizabeth and the total failure of a grand gesture that mocked him from its place in the sky.

"Henry," Elizabeth said slowly. "What's going on?"

"I hired a discount skywriter," Henry heard himself say as if from somewhere far away. Very quickly, this whole ordeal had spiraled from something only vaguely promising to a complete disaster. There was a moment of silence in which Henry sunk slowly to one knee and pulled a blue velvet ring box from his pocket. And then, like sunshine bursting through the clouds after a particularly fierce storm, Elizabeth began to laugh. She looked between Henry, on one knee in front of her, and the letters in the sky, and she laughed- openly, feely, because the whole situation couldn't have been more ridiculous or, despite her, endearing, if it had tried.

"On our second date," Henry began through his fear and dry mouth, "you said that people weren't lining up to hire skywriters for you and I said- I said that that they should be, and then we never said anything about it again but I always thought so. I always thought that you deserved to have your name written in the sky and- well-" he faltered, looking between her and the slowly fading, pathetic attempt at _Elizabeth_ in the blue sky, but she had stopped laughing and when he looked back at her, he found that there was unabashed affection on her face and in her gaze. Heartened by that softness, he took a deep breath and continued.

"I think you deserve the world," he said. "And the skywriter may have been a complete disaster," he continued with a nod. "And," he admitted, "I really screwed up leaving you for even a minute, regardless of the reason but-" he paused, and took a breath. "But I am just hopelessly in love with you, Elizabeth Adams. I'm so crazy about you, and I want to spend the rest of my life ruining grand gestures and making you laugh like that. So...will you marry me?"

Elizabeth's breath caught at the words and she took another glance at the fading white letters in the sky, then looked back at the earnest, warm gaze of the man on one knee in front of her, and right then she remembered the conversation that Henry was talking about. The moment when she'd wondered to herself, _is it worth it?_ And just then, looking at him looking at her, with the backdrop of what she was sure was the best thing anyone had ever done for her based on the sheer intention of it, Elizabeth knew the answer to both questions.

"Yes," she said aloud and watched the brilliant smile break over Henry's face. As he wrapped her up in his arms, Elizabeth decided then and there that she would never doubt the worth of a life with Henry McCord again.


	19. Denim Jacket

**Author's Note: Hello! I'm back! (sort of?) I've started college which takes a ton of my time but a writer never really stops writing so here we are. I was commissioned to write five one-shots by one of my most avid supporters and it's taken me a while but here is the first one! I hope you all enjoy it and thank you for your continued support and feeback.**

 **Prompt: Elizabeth and Henry meet for the first time when one of them finds something that the other lost, and goes out of their way to return it.**

He'd been watching her.

No. Not _watching_ her. That would have been creepy. No, he'd just been...noticing her. Yes, noticing. After all, how could he not have noticed her? She was stunning, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes and legs that, in casual blue jeans, seemed to stretch for miles. Henry, with another glance at her, decided that it was fine that he'd noticed her. As long as he didn't stare or make her uncomfortable, it was fine that he glanced over at her occasionally on the other side of this small section of the library, where she was sitting and reading, totally engrossed in the pages of the book open in front of her. As Henry watched her absently brush a strand of her honey hair behind her ear with delicate fingers, he wondered what book it was. He watched her flip the page, never taking her gaze from the words printed before her, and wondered if it was required reading or pleasure reading. It didn't look like a textbook, so he thought possibly for pleasure. Though, she might have been an English major; in that case, he could have known the title of the book and still not be sure if it was pleasure reading or not.

It was only when she turned the page again that Henry realized he'd been staring- exactly the thing he'd wanted to not do. He could feel the heat creep into his cheeks even though she- whoever she was- was still far too engrossed in her own reading material to have noticed at all. Something about her fascinated Henry, and he wasn't even really sure why. There were tons of pretty girls, and Henry wasn't often taken by physical beauty alone anyway. Usually, for him to be interested in a woman, he had to spend some time with her first. But even just watching her across the room, Henry felt something drawing him to this woman. Something more than her pretty hair and long legs or the way she bit her lip as she read. Something deeper than all of that.

Henry forced himself to look away, to stare down at the page of the open textbook in front of him and not look up at the unnamed girl that he found himself so drawn to. He didn't want to let her catch him watching her like that; Henry was well-aware of how uncomfortable something like that could make her, and he wasn't that kind of guy. That was something that he prided himself on, and he wasn't about to ruin it now. Minutes ticked by in which Henry determinedly did not even glimpse her out of the corner of his eye, and yet as he stared at the words on the page in front of him, he couldn't read a single one of them. They blurred together in a sea of denim jacket and blonde hair and elegant features that were burned into Henry's memory.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he picked up his head, just to glance over there, and found the seat vacant. She was gone. His heart was already beginning to sink at the knowledge that he'd lost his chance, when he noticed it. A denim jacket. Her denim jacket. It was slung over the back of the chair, despite the fact that she'd been wearing it when he'd last looked. When he glanced around the library, he found it entirely devoid of the presence of the jacket's owner and wondered when she'd gotten up and left. He wished he'd at least glimpsed the movement in his peripheral, but now that the opportunity for that had firmly passed, another plan was already forming in Henry's mind. After all, someone had to make sure she got her jacket back, didn't they?

Decided, he stood up and crossed the space that had separated them, and then he picked up the jacket. Something about holding it in his hands felt both wrong and thrilling. He shook his head, reminding himself that he was a grown man and should really pull it together over this girl he hadn't even met. He didn't even know her name, he thought as he turned the fabric over in his hands. And then he caught sight of the tag on the inside, with two neatly printed block letters on it in black marker.

E.A.

Henry smiled slightly to himself, knowing in that moment exactly what he was going to do.

When Henry found himself standing outside apartment 110 the next day, he no longer felt quite as confident. It hadn't been easy necessarily, but Henry was fairly connected on campus and he had managed to track down the owner of the jacket. He would have to cram later in the week to make up for the studying he'd missed, but something in him had convinced him that it would be worth it to meet this girl.

Elizabeth.

He liked her name. He liked the way it sounded on his tongue, the way it flowed, the elegance of it. He wondered if she had a nickname, Liz maybe, and hoped that she didn't. It was silly; he didn't know if he'd ever see her again after returning her jacket, but he still hoped she liked to be called Elizabeth, because he wanted to say her name aloud.

He had just raised his hand, not entirely steady, to knock, when the sound of footsteps to his right drew his attention and he glanced up. And there she was; Elizabeth, standing her on this side of the door, and wearing a leather jacket that made Henry wish he wasn't returning the denim on so that she would have no choice but to wear _that_ one all the time.

Elizabeth smiled at the sight of him standing there like an idiot with her jacket in his hand, commending herself for her timing. She was sure he didn't know it, but she had not been oblivious to his presence in the library the day before. She'd been well aware of the handsome guy who was trying to be subtle about watching her across the room. She was confident that she had looked focused on her book, but she had been quite the opposite. He had caught her attention quite as much as she had his, and the jacket had been nothing but a clever plant. One that, inexplicably, Elizabeth had known he would fall for even though she'd never once spoken to him.

"Hi," she said, having come to stand beside him outside her own door.

"Hi," he replied, looking at her with hazel eyes, and she smiled, waiting for him to continue.

"Elizabeth, right?" he asked. The word didn't come out as smoothly as it had sounded in his head, but he tried not to show it.

"That's me," she answered. She looked down at her jacket, smiling slightly at the sight of it there in his hands.

"And that's mine," she added. Henry looked down quickly, and then back up at her.

"Right," he said. "Right, yes, it is."

Elizabeth tilted her head, watching him in charmed amusement.

"And you are…" she prompted. He sighed, clearly frustrated with himself, which only served to amuse Elizabeth further.

"Henry," he said. "McCord. Henry McCord."

"Henry McCord," she repeated. She liked his name, the way it sounded and felt. "What are you doing with my jacket there, Henry McCord?"

"I found it," he answered. "In the library, yesterday."

"You found it," she repeated. "And how did you know it was mine?"

"I- well, I noticed your initials in the label there and so I thought you should have it back and I had seen you sitting there so I knew what you looked like and I know a lot of people so I found some people who knew you and from there I found out who you are and where you live and...now I just sound creepy," he finished. Elizabeth smiled, waiting for him to chance looking up at her. When he did, and saw that she was smiling, he took a breath. She had a beautiful smile, even more so than he could have imagined when stealing glances at her the day before.

"That's very considerate of you, Henry," she said quietly.

He held the jacket out to her and she took it.

"Do you go by Elizabeth?" he asked, the words out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think that over. She laughed, pleasant and light and surprised, and if Henry hadn't already been a goner, he would have been now.

"Sometimes," she answered. She met his eyes. "You can call me Elizabeth."

"I- okay," Henry said. Elizabeth smiled, and Henry's heart skipped a beat. He was running out of things to say, there in the hallway, and so he knew this was his chance to take a leap. "Does that mean," he began, clearing his throat, "I'll have a chance to use your name again?"

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at his bold, yet somehow awkward attempt at keeping her attention, unaware that he already had it.

"If you want," she began, "I could put this in my room and then you could use it over coffee."

Henry smiled, brightly, and nodded his head.

"I would like that very much," he said sincerely. Elizabeth smiled, a little wicked.

"You passed," she said. "I don't trust a man who doesn't drink coffee."

"You're in luck, then," Henry laughed as Elizabeth worked to unlock her door.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I think I am."

And then she disappeared into the apartment and Henry was left to stand in the hallway, feeling hopeful and thinking that in reality, he was the one in luck.


	20. End Of The World

**A/N: hi guys! I know I disappeared from the face of the earth, but the season finale really hit me so here I am. Not to jinx myself, but there's a possibility I'm on the verge of another madam secretary phase…**

 **At any rate, this contains spoilers for the season five finale, so if you'd like to avoid that then you should stop here. Please enjoy and feel free to leave a review :)**

 **This isn't based on a prompt, but a thought I had, which was: what if Stevie had been freaking out as much as Blake right after their kiss?**

Stevie didn't do freaking out. At least, not anymore. She was a grown woman now, damn it. She was not the teenager she had once been; that girl, she had been _very_ prone to freaking out, and she had the college dropout on her life's timeline to prove it. Now, though, she was a grown up who worked in the White House. She had pulled her life together, finally, and she didn't do the freaking out thing anymore.

Except that right now, every cell of her body begged to differ. After leaving Blake on the sidewalk with an impressively casual instruction to him about not freaking out, she herself had proceeded to go home and do just that. Barricaded in her bedroom, she paced the floor and replayed the entire scene over and over in her head. It was as if it was on a permanent loop in her brain from start to finish, beginning somewhere around "flamingos" and ending with her last glance at Blake's face before she'd turned around and walked away. She could practically hear his voice in her head, words coming together in a dizzying and somehow comforting jumble of Blake.

Blake. She'd kissed _Blake._ Blake, like her mom's assistant. Blake, like the guy who had saved her from her own immaturity with a blouse from her mother's wardrobe and told her, in a bizarre yet sweet kind of way, that she had winner eggs. Blake, as in right-in-front-of-her-all-this-time, too good to be true, too put-together to fit her pattern, Blake. And then, she'd left him there on that little corner in Georgetown and she'd gone home because they _couldn't_ and they shouldn't and there was too much at stake.

But maybe, she was thinking now as she paced barefoot across the floor of her bedroom, maybe that was the point. Maybe _because_ there was too much at stake, maybe that was why she couldn't stop touching her lips with the tips of her fingers and remembering how warm and right it had felt when they were pressed up against Blake's.

"Hello?"

Stevie was pulled sharply from her reverie, dropping her hand from her face quickly as she spun to face the doorway, fully aware that she looked like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the dramatic reaction, a knowing look in her eyes as she surveyed her daughter.

"Mom," Stevie said, trying very hard to sound like her normal self. "Hi."

"Hi," Elizabeth replied. She leaned against the doorframe, looked Stevie up and down, and smiled.

"What?" Stevie asked nervously.

"You tell me," Elizabeth shrugged. Stevie sighed; her posture physically deflated and she sank onto her bed. She knew there was no use now; she'd long since learned that when Elizabeth knew, she knew, and this was undoubtedly one of those times.

"Who is he?" Elizabeth asked, pushing herself off of the doorframe and moving instead to sit next to Stevie, who couldn't help but laugh at that question. There was an undeniable irony to this whole situation, Elizabeth being able to tell that there was a guy involved but having no idea that the one in question was in Stevie's life only because of Elizabeth herself.

"What?" Elizabeth asked, amused.

"Oh god, Mom," Stevie groaned. "You won't believe this."

Elizabeth laughed lightly.

"I think at this point, honey, I'd believe anything," she stated. Stevie laughed at that, too. She sighed, leaning back and drawing her knees underneath her. She shook her head slightly, thinking again about Blake and how much he'd felt like home.

"You ever meet someone who feels like home?" Stevie asked softly. "You know, like...I don't know, like the person you'd want to see again if you knew that the world was ending?"

Elizabeth smiled slightly at her eldest child, nodding her head

"I think you already know that I have," she said quietly. Stevie met her gaze and nodded slightly, surprised by how little that scared her.

"Dad," she said.

"Yeah," Elizabeth confirmed. They sat in silence for a moment, side by side in Stevie's room. Elizabeth took a sideways glance at Stevie, knowing that she'd continue when she was ready to. Another minute passed in comfortable quiet.

"It was Blake."

Saying it out loud made Stevie's heart race. Elizabeth looked over at her in surprise.

"So maybe some things can still surprise me," Elizabeth said. Stevie couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah. Me too," she agreed.

"Blake?" Elizabeth asked, not against the concept but surprised by it enough that she wasn't sure how to feel. Stevie sort of felt the same way.

"Yeah. He, um...we went for drinks because he felt bad about the vetting thing, which was-"

"I heard, was that-?"

Stevie waved her off.

"It was fine," she said. "But he felt bad so I said he could buy me a drink and call it even and I thought nothing of it, really, but then we were talking about- about that stupid flamingo statistic, you know, the one-"

"The one from the 2030 report?" Elizabeth asked, and Stevie nodded.

"Yeah. And, I don't know, things started to shift and then we left and we were talking end-of-the-world scenarios and I thought to myself, if the world was ending I'd want to see Blake again and-"

"Wow."

"Yeah."

Elizabeth thought about that for a moment. If the world was ending, she'd want to see Blake again. Elizabeth couldn't deny the power of that statement.

"Then what?" she asked; she couldn't resist. Stevie sighed.

"Then I was thinking about how much he understand me. How he seems to get what I'm saying before I say it, and then we kissed."

"You-"

"Mmhmm. I kissed him. And it was quick, and then he looked at me and then _he_ kissed _me_ and it wasn't so quick, and then all I could think was, he's not gay?"

Elizabeth, after half a beat of silence, burst into laughter. A smile tugged at Stevie's features as she watched her mom.

"Shut up," she groaned. "Mom, come on."

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said through her laughter.

"Come on!" Stevie laughed. "He's not gay! Did you know?"

Elizabeth, laughing too hard to answer, nodded her head.

"He's-"

"Bi, yes, he said."

Elizabeth turned to Stevie then.

"Oh my god, you asked him," she stated.

"Well-" Stevie began.

"You kissed him and then asked him if he was gay?" Elizabeth clarified.

"Yes," Stevie admitted. "Or I tried- I tried to ask him and got all tongue tied and it was horrible, I-"

"Oh, this is too good," Elizabeth laughed.

"You're really not helping," Stevie pointed out, though she, too was laughing. As the laughter died down, Elizabeth surveyed Stevie again for a moment, and then rested her hand on her daughter's knee, drawing Stevie's blue eyes to her own.

"You'll always wonder if you don't find out," she said quietly. "End of the world kind of people are the kind of people you want to make sure with."

Stevie thought about that for a moment, still torn about all the problems it could cause if something came of her connection to a member of her mom's staff, but also thinking about Blake's warm gaze and that feeling of home. Elizabeth, sensing the shift, stood up. She leaned over and kissed the top of Stevie's head, then smiled at her.

"Think about it," she said lightly, and then she left before Stevie had a chance to thank her. Once again alone in her room, Stevie brought her fingertips to her lips again and smiled slightly.

She was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to think about anything else.


	21. Run Away

**A/N: hello surprise, I'm alive. Alex tweeted about this a while ago and I wanted to write it then but I'm just now getting to it so here you have it: run away by ben platt but it's stevie and blake. Enjoy and thank you for reading :) ps, stream sing to me instead by ben platt**

" _One night before they went to bed, he kneeled on both knees and this is what he said."_

Blake and Stevie had tried to stay away from each other. That's how they told the story afterwards, anyway. The truth was maybe a little bit more complicated than that; while each of them had sort of tried, there had also been something between them that neither of them had been able to ignore. From that first night under a lampost in Georgetown, neither Stevie nor Blake had been able to stop playing it all over and thinking about it. She'd thought of nothing but the softness of his lips against hers and he had been unable to shake the way it had made him feel to look at her, blue eyes alight with something he hadn't understood until she was against him and leaving him no choice.

That had been almost two years ago now; things had shifted and changed around them in ways that they could never have predicted, but like figures at the center of a snowglobe, Blake and Stevie had remained the same. That was not to say that things between them hadn't changed as well; they had admitted to their inability to stay away from one another and grown closer. There had been dates and flowers and more late night calls for various reasons and they had come to know one another intimately, in mind and heart and body. But the feeling that had been ignited on that winter night in the dark with gloved hands and bright eyes...that had stayed. It had remained steadfast no matter the season and though they liked to tell the story in a way that made it seem like they had not expected to end up here, the truth was that they both had known from that very moment. That part of the story, Stevie liked to think, was just for the two of them.

It was late, nearly midnight already. Stevie, in light pink pajama pants and a tee shirt that she thought might have been her boyfriend's at some point near the beginning of their relationship, had already settled under the sheets and was leaning against the headboard, blonde hair piled messily on top of her head and glasses resting on her face as she studied the paperwork in her hand which she had brought home to read over. Blake, hovering in the doorway unnoticed, thought her the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He always had. She glanced up at him, and he watched her eyes light up.

"Hey," she said, and he knew. Not for the first time, he knew he wanted that for the rest of his life and the next one if such a thing existed and he couldn't keep it quiet any longer. He took a few silent steps forward and dropped to his knees next to their bed, taking a confused Stevie's hand in his own.

"Blake?" she asked, just the right amount of concerned.

"I'm not...a hero," he began. "I mean I try to help people but I don't save the day. I'm not the wisest person in the world, you know, I'm not like your dad doing symposiums and lectures and inspiring people and-" he broke off there, giving his own head a little shake under her amused gaze on him, and then pressed on determined to leave Stevie's father out of his little speech going forward. "I'm not the most impressive man in the world, Stephanie," he continued softly. "But you can look at me and see...I love you. I love you and I'm yours, forever. Really forever. I want- I want to stay with you forever."

Stevie's eyes were brighter than usual as she nodded her head.

"I know," she whispered. "Yes."

Blake stared at her. Stevie always knew what he meant, sometimes before he did.

"Yes," she said softly. "I want to stay with you forever, too."

"Yes?" he whispered. Stevie laughed and nodded her head.

"Yes."

And just like that, it was done: right there in their bedroom in pajamas at midnight. Just the two of them, the way it had always been meant to be.

" _Some years went by, they had a child; he was funny strange and mild; their love for him ran deep."_

He had Blake's dark eyes and Stevie's blonde hair. He'd been born slightly early, and was thin and long even as a toddler, and there had always been something a little bit mysterious about their sweet, bookish, beautiful boy. Ethan was seven now, and told jokes at the most unexpected moments. He didn't care about spending time with other children or playing outside very much, but he loved to sit with his grandfather and read books or take walks with Stevie in the evening, when Blake was still at work and Ethan could pick flowers for him to leave on his desk. Blake would find them the next morning and had each one pressed in the books on his office shelf. Sometimes, when reading or doing research, he stumbled across an old one, smiled to himself at his unbelievable luck, and tucked it back between the pages.

Ethan, as far as Stevie and Blake were concerned, was perfect.

It was getting late: almost 9 pm already. Ethan sat on his small twin bed, pale skin nestled beneath blue blankets as his dark eyes gazed up at Stevie.

"Mama?" he said. His voice was soft and had the slightest edge of gravel to it, too heavy for a seven year old but perfectly suited to their son. She hovered in the doorway, looking back at him.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"I'm going to have bad dreams."

Stevie smiled slightly, moving back into his bedroom.

"How do you think we can fix that?" she asked softly. Ethan looked at her, wide eyed and permanently curious.

"You can stay with me?" he replied, voice trailing in an uncertain question that tugged at Stevie's heart.

"Ethan," she said gently, kneeling next to his bed and taking his small hand in her own the way she had been since he was a tiny baby in a hospital incubator. "I'm not a superhero or even the smartest person in the world. You're going to meet so many people in your life who are smarter and better and different from us in a million ways. But can I tell you a secret?"

Ethan nodded, watching her with rapt attention.

"There's nobody you can count on more than your family. Grandma and Grandpa taught me that," she said.

"And Daddy?"

Stevie smiled and brushed delicate fingers through Ethan's light hair in the warm halflight that spilled in from the hallway.

"And Daddy," she echoed. "Daddy taught me that a bunch of times."

"So you're going to always stay with me," Ethan said. Stevie nodded.

"Always," she whispered. "I promise."

With that, she curled under the blankets and felt his small body relax against hers, his fingers tangling in her hair for comfort as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. That was how Blake found them later, home late from a business trip and hovering in the doorway. He leaned his head against the doorframe and watched them for a moment. As Stevie shifted ever so slightly and Ethan let out a barely audible, childish snuffle in his sleep, Blake was sure that his heart would burst.

" _Look in my eyes, and know I'll always stay; and I won't run away."_

It was getting late; almost sunset. And Blake could feel himself fading too, like the sun. At his side, as she had always been, Stephanie McCord Moran. A fierce, beautiful, soft force of a woman who had stood by him fearlessly and been everything he could have dreamed to have in a person to share his life with. Now, in the evening sun that streamed into their room through the thin curtains, laugh lines lit in gold and silvery hair falling perfectly against her neck, her hand in his, Stevie was the most beautiful thing Blake had ever seen.

"I'm sorry."

It had been quiet between them for some time until Blake spoke. Stevie turned her blue eyes, still as bright and beautiful as ever, on her husband, brushing her thumb against the papery skin on his hand as she smiled slightly at him.

"Blake," she began. "When we first started dating, you didn't want me to move in with you, remember?"

He did.

"Because you were afraid," she continued. He nodded.

"Of this," he admitted. He'd never said it aloud, but this- the leaving- had been what he was afraid of.

"I know," she murmured, warm and understanding. She shifted so that she could see him more fully and rested a delicate hand on his cheek. He turned into her touch reflexively, as if magnetized to her.

"You thought it would be better to do it on your own than to hurt anyone. But you didn't. My mom and dad- what they had- that was always what I wanted, and you were it, and more. You gave me everything and then some, Blake Moran."

"I'm sorry."

"Shh," Stevie insisted. "Don't be sorry. You did everything perfectly. You did good, baby. It's okay."

"I don't want to put you through-"

"Oh, Blake," she sighed. "I can't...I can't save the day. I can't give you the answers. But I can stay. To love is not to leave, so I'm going to stay right here with you, okay? It's okay."

They looked at one another in the quiet evening and it could have been late winter in Georgetown, gloved hands and bright eyes lit by a lamppost. There hadn't been a need to speak then, and there wasn't now. Like figures in a snowglobe, Stevie and Blake had remained the same.

"Forever," Blake breathed. The ghost of a young woman's smile flickered on Stevie's features.

"Forever."


	22. Dishes

**A/N: hello! I have returned at least briefly because I got a review on my six months outtakes and it made me want to write these angels again :) enjoy!**

 **Prompt: Doing the dishes together has been a part of Henry and Elizabeth's routine for so long. Now that they're in the White House and they don't have to do that chore anymore, it feels like something is missing.**

Elizabeth was lying on her bed, Henry at her side. It was the end of the day, and he was reading, and the scene was altogether very familiar. It could have been any night of any of the last three-plus decades, except for one thing.

Elizabeth was no longer a student, or working for the CIA, or a professor, or even the Secretary of State. These days, she was the leader of the free world, a mantle that rested more heavily on her shoulders than any she had previously held- except perhaps that of mom, which had been and remained a beast all its own.

Despite the many, many differences in the lives of the McCords lately, right then after a long and frustrating day, one in particular stood out to Elizabeth. She rolled over to face Henry, looking up at him from where her head rested in her hands, propped up on her elbows as he gazed down at her over his reading glasses.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked. Henry nodded and Elizabeth sighed.

"Do you ever think about the dishes?"

Henry hesitated, confusion passing over his face.

"What about them?" he inquired.

"Well," Elizabeth began, gesturing vaguely. "Someone else is doing them."

"Yeah, the kitchen staff, we met them-" Henry began.

"No, yeah, I know we did," Elizabeth replied, a touch of impatience creeping into her tone at the knowledge that Henry did not seem to be intuiting her vague point. "I mean- you know, we used to do our own dishes. You and me, together at night when the house was quiet."

Realization lit up Henry's eyes, to Elizabeth's relief. Her husband chuckled lightly, tugging at the frames of his glasses so that they came away from his face and rested in his lap against the cover of the obscure religious book he had been reading.

"Yes," he answered. "That, I think about a lot."

Elizabeth exhaled forcefully.

"I miss that," she divulged. "It was good for me- for us. And I feel like I'm missing something without it."

Henry looked at her thoughtfully, and then shrugged his shoulders.

"So let's go do them," he suggested. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, skepticism etched into her every feature.

"What?" she asked.

"Let's go do them," Henry repeated. He shrugged his shoulders again. "I miss it too."

Elizabeth thought about that for a moment, and Henry could see the wheels in her head turning before she cast her curious blue eyes on him.

"Are we allowed to do that?" she asked. Henry couldn't help but laugh.

"Babe," he said gently. "You're the President of the United States. Who's gonna stop you?"

Elizabeth stared at him for a second, and then a smile lit up her face.

"That's a damn good point, Henry McCord," she declared, already pushing herself up from the bed.

"Let's go," she urged. Henry grinned to himself, shaking his head as he stood to follow her.

By the time the President and First Gentleman finally reached the kitchen, they had explained themselves to far more Secret Service members than Elizabeth ever would have imagined would stand between herself and some dirty dishes. They all seemed completely perplexed by her explanation, save the few they encountered who had worked with Elizabeth for a long time. Those few just nodded, resigned to the fact that Elizabeth McCord was, always had been, and always would be the most unconventional person they would serve. Now, they faced the kitchen staff.

"Madam President."

Anyone could have heard the confusion and notes of fear in their voices, but Elizabeth waved them down.

"Hey, guys," she said. "I, uh- well, we," she amended, glancing at Henry. "We were wondering if we could take some of your dish duty tonight."

The staff before her, which had come to a collective stop at her entrance, exchanged uncertain glances at the unprecedented request.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but...why?"

Henry laughed, and Elizabeth couldn't help but chuckle along with him.

"Yeah, that's a fair question," she admitted. "Um, you know, Henry and I raised our family just the two of us," she explained. "We never had a nanny or a live-in or really any hired help. And just about every night of our thirty-some years of marriage, we did the dishes together. It grounded us, you know? Like when our kids were little and the house was finally quiet and we could spend some time there just the two of us talking and working together." She smiled at them and shrugged her shoulders. "It was our time, and uh...well, we miss it." There was a collective little laugh from the group she was addressing. "So, if you don't mind, we were hoping to get a little of that back tonight, what do you think?"

Many of the staff members nodded, and one stepped forward.

"I'll show you," she offered, and Elizabeth smiled.

"Thank you very much…" she trailed off, questioning.

"Marisa," she filled in. "And it's an honor, Madam President."

"Marisa," Elizabeth repeated with a nod. As she and Henry followed her, Henry leaned in to speak to the staff member.

"Thanks for giving me a chance to prove to my wife that I'm still better than her at this," he said.

"Watch it," Elizabeth warned, but she was smiling at him even as she spoke.

Shortly, their hands were buried in dishwater and the hum of activity around them had faded into the background as the two of them conversed quietly at the center of it all. Henry snuck a glance at her as she washed dishes, slow and careful and concentrated. He smiled slightly. It did him more good than he would have expected, seeing her like this again. It had been Elizabeth's idea, but as she recounted for him an earlier phone call with Will that she'd snuck in between official duties, he couldn't help but see her as the young vibrant girl he'd fallen in love with- his Elizabeth, who was so much more than the President of the United States.

"What?" Elizabeth asked, catching him in his dreamy reverie. He smiled, caught, and shook his head.

"Nothing," he answered. "Just thinking how much I needed this."

Elizabeth nodded, understanding him completely- as she always had. Henry, deciding to lighten the moment, reached over and flicked some soap bubbles onto her, which floated gently to rest on her head. He laughed at the sight, and she flicked him back, and then they were both laughing; as it turned out, some things never changed, even in the White House.


End file.
